Before He Fell
by Mariadoria
Summary: A few months before Thor's coronation, Loki left Asgard, needing some time to himself. He chose to let Heimdall choose where he went. Of course, he ends up on Midgard. And of course he had to strike up an unlikely freindship, not that he would ever call it that, with a thirty year old Hermione Granger. BEING REWRITTEN.
1. A Man Named Loki

Thor's coronation was in a few months.

Loki decided to take that time to get away from his preening brother. He needed it. Make the most of his freedom before the blond haired, arrogant fool took the throne of Asgard. His brother was usually insufferable, always regaling grand tales of battles and gloating about how he alone was worthy of Mjolnir.

Now, with his impending coronation, he ego was inflating to impossible levels. Loki couldn't go a day without hearing about the changes Thor would make 'when he was king.' It drove him mad, made him grind his teeth in utter fury.

So, a few month before Thor's coronation and impending doom, Loki marched down the Rainbow Bridge, towards the Bifrost. It glinted gold in the sun, reflecting years of engineering and magic, all harnessed in one giant, golden sphere. He wore simple clothes, deciding to forgo his usual regal attire for something more regular. He didn't exactly know where he was going. It wouldn't do to turn up on a realm where he was recognised. Besides, he had his battle armour on standby at all times, thanks to his ever faithful magic.

For once, he found himself craving anonymity. It wasn't something he could explain, not in a thousand years. The thought of being able to go somewhere and act like a normal person with normal feelings and a normal life normally repulsed him. Who would want that? But now, the desire for a few months where he could be his own person, without needing to worry about his reputation being tarnished.

He reached the door of the Bifrost. Heimdall, the golden watcher with all-seeing amber eyes, surveyed him carefully.

"Are you sure what you set out to do is what you want?" His voice rumbled. Loki sniffed. Of course he was sure what he wanted to do. He was a Prince of Asgard, being sure was in his blood.

"I am sure, Heimdall. Now, send me somewhere that I haven't been before. Contrary to my character, I find myself craving...adventure." He sneered the word, like it was the most disgusting thing in the world. "I'm taking these few months to get away from my idiot brother. Now, surprise me."

Heimdall sighed. "As you wish, Prince Loki." Loki smirked. Heimdall raised his mighty sword and plunged it into the centre of the Bifrost. Lightning began whirling around them, though not hitting either of the Asgardians. The golden globe began spinning pointing in the direction of wherever he was about to go. "I wish you all the best on your journey, my prince."

"I don't need your wishes." With a smirk, he was pulled out of the Bifrost and into the rainbow coloured tunnel. Lights rushed past him. He couldn't help wonder what he was doing, or why. It was a question he constantly found himself asking as he planned his excursion, though he never found the answer.

With his hair whipping around his face, Loki felt the end of his time within the Bifrost coming to an end. Wherever he was going to end up, it was bound to be something new. Well, as new as things could get when you were over a thousand years old and had seen most that the nine realms had to offer.

The lights dissipated and Loki squinted slightly, trying to discern where Heimdall had sent him. His eyes widened when he realised exactly where he was.

What in Odin's name was he doing on Midgard?

* * *

Hermione sighed into her thick, leather bound book. There was nothing that annoyed her more than not being able to find the information she needed. She should be able to find it in an instant. Libraries were her territory; the books her prey. It reminded her of the painful period in her first year at Hogwarts when they were searching for Nicholas Flamel. One day, the answer to her question would hit her over the head, a solid 'thwap' that would leave her wondering how she could be so think.

How she detested moments like this.

Huffing, she gently closed the book. No matter how angry she was, she would never disrespect a book. Unlike _some people_ she knew. Chuckling, she made to grab her wand out to return the book to it's shelf. It was with a start that she remembered she was in a muggle library. No magic. Not even a little bit.

Gathering it up in her arms, Hermione walked over to a shelf to grab the next book in her series of victims. She slid it back on the shelf. After five minutes of searching, Hermione could have screamed. None of these books had what she wanted. Granted, what she was looking for wasn't exactly common in muggle libraries. Right now, she was deeply embroiled in the mythology section. There was a certain paper that needed her attention and she thought that the views of muggles on mythology could provide an interesting comparison to wizarding views. Of course, a lot of her co-workers thought she was barking mad venturing into the muggle world.

She shook the thought off. That was something she could deal with later. Right now, the perfect book was just out of her reach and she wouldn't leave the library, even if she needed to stay for a week to find her answer. It was in here somewhere, it had to be. No matter how many books she had to closely examine. The building she was standing in was one of the largest in London. Surely, the passages she needed were hidden within those elusive pages.

"Do you need any help?" A soft voice cut through her intense searching. Hermione stood and observed the tall, strangely dressed man standing next to her. His black hair was secured back in a ponytail, and his posture was tall and proud, like he was used to lording over people. He certainly had the arrogant tilt to his chin down pat, eerily similar to a certain Malfoy.

"Well, if you can help me find that elusive book on Norse Mythology, that would be greatly appreciated," she laughed. She returned to the shelves, not seeing the amusement sparkling in his eyes.

"I'm sure I could help you with that. I class myself as an expert on the subject." He crouched down and picked out a book, handing it to Hermione. "This would be a good place to start." She graciously took the book, while sliding a few others out as well. Her pile grew quickly, until there was too much to carry. Hermione groaned. She thought she was past this problem.

"Thanks for that."

"It is no problem. Would you like me to help you with these books?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at his offer. Something was off about him, something that she couldn't quite place. It didn't seem like anything dangerous, though, so she shrugged.

"Sure. It's nice to meet a gentleman like you every now and then. God knows my friends could learn a lesson or two from you."

"I'm sure they could."

"Careful, your ego might overinflate if you keep talking like that."

"Who says it isn't already?" Hermione chuckled. There was a sort of charm around this odd, arrogant man. Certainly more than many of the men she knew.

She walked back to the her table, which was covered in lined paper, both still in the refill pad and screwed up. As much as she loved the wizarding world, writing on parchment was just a pain. As soon as she left the doors of Hogwarts, she purchased several pads of refill paper and many pens, much to the puzzlement of the Weasleys.

Heaving, she heavily placed the books on the wooden table with a loud 'thump.' A second, lighter noise followed as the man placed his larger pile down on the table. It was like he was carrying nothing, like the books were lighter than a feather to him. It was strange, as he was thin as a rake.

"Thanks for that," Hermione said. He nodded and walked off, presumably to find a book of his own. She sat down and opened the book he recommended. A wall of minute text met her eyes. Slowly, a smile crept over her lips. _This_ was the type of book Hermione had been looking for. Jam packed full of information and relevant information at that. Throw in the fact that it was written by a reputable author, and she was in book heaven. Inside her head, she cheered the mysterious stranger.

Hermione found herself drawn deeper and deeper into the tome. The legends were written about so well that soon the stories were dancing around her head in full colour. It was like she was there, watching it happen. She read through the book, practically devouring it.

Never aware that the man was watching her from across the library.

* * *

Loki didn't know why he offered the bushy haired woman help. Maybe it was the way her warm brown eyes seemed to burn lasers into the wall of books. Something about her amused him. The fact that she was researching Norse mythology also helped a great deal. He was certainly an 'expert' on the subject, considering he was part of the mythology. It brought a slight smirk to his face.

So far, his time in the Midgardian city of London wasn't going to bad. Though he visited here before, many years ago, this time he wasn't trying to announce his presence and impress anyone. He was just here to enjoy the peace, the reprieve from Thor and his magical battle hammer. He snickered at calling Mjolnir a 'magical battle hammer.' Even he couldn't deny that Mjolnir was an impressive weapon.

Loki flicked his eyes up and glanced that the woman. She was eating the book he recommended, eyes darting left and right, reading the pages faster than humanly possible. It intrigued him. Maybe he could learn more about this woman who was eating up Norse mythology. It would certainly give him something to do. Maybe he would even make a friend of his own, outside of the Warriors Three. Even they mocked him, constantly calling his magic a cowards way out. It infuriated him.

That was another thing. He could sense something magical around her. It was unlike his own, unique brand of magic, but it was magic nonetheless.

Mind made up, Loki grabbed the first book he found, which happened to be on muggle sciences that he didn't understand in the slightest, and walked purposefully over to her desk. He wanted to get to know this person better. Or maybe he just wanted a mystery to solve. Either way, he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He was also being unusually polite. Normally, he would just sit down wherever he pleased. On Midgard, though, he quickly found that wasn't the case, if his ban from visiting a certain cafe was accurate.

She snapped up, having received a massive fright. When she saw who it was, she smiled slightly.

"Only if you stay quiet and let me concentrate."

"Done."

And so they sat there in silence, Loki trying desperately to decipher the impossible book he was leafing through. His mind was elsewhere, though. More specifically, trying to figure out what kind of magic the woman across the table from his wielded. He shook his head. There was something off about just calling her 'the woman.' He would introduce himself in the hope that she would return the favour.

"I'm Loki, by the way." She glanced up, brow crinkling. She doubted him. "It's true. Loki is my name."

"Some parents you must have." Loki chuckled at her reaction to his name. It certainly wasn't what he had expected. Then again, for all she knew, he was just a normal man with a very, very strange name.

"Yeah, you could say that."

'I mean, who would name their kid Loki? Poor you. Then again, I know several people with odd names. Did you know I know a Draco? Not that I'm good friends with him. Never." She shuddered at the thought. "Why did they name you that?"

"Obsession with Norse mythology," was the instant answer. Nothing better came to mind. She seemed to take the answer. "You know, when someone introduces themselves, it's polite to reciprocate." The woman sighed, grabbing a piece of paper and marking her page in the book.

"I'm Hermione."

"Strange name." The newly identified Hermione scowled at him. The name suited her, with her bushy hair and bookishness.

"Says the man named Loki, of all things."

"Fair point, though you glaring at me isn't going to change my opinion. I never said I didn't like it. In fact, I think it is quite nice, actually." Hermione seemed to wrestle with her thoughts, before opening the book again and turning her nose to the pages.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to get back to my book."

"Certainly."

And they sat there in quiet companionship until the library closed. Not that Loki would admit to calling it companionship.

Never.

* * *

Within the Bifrost, Heimdall smiled. Maybe this Hermione Granger was just what Loki needed to help him become a slightly better person. Not that he would never admit that he needed to be a slightly better person.

Never.

* * *

The next week found Hermione back in the library, at the same table, buried in the mountain of the same books. And, strangely enough, the same man across the table from her. For the entire week, he just sat there, greeting her, reading books on the strangest and most varied topics she'd ever seen, and then leaving with nothing more than a curt nod.

It was odd, to say in the least. This Loki fellow was a type of person Hermione had never met before. Sure, she knew people like him, arrogant and more than a little bit of a dick. She wouldn't deny that he was a jerk, though a very polite and well hidden one. She was far too good at reading people to gloss past it, to not see it. Still, there was something charming about him that intrigued her. Hermione knew that he was intrigued by her. She could see it in the way that when he thought she wasn't looking he would glance at her. It was like he was trying to discern something about her. As if she was a puzzle waiting to be solved.

On the seventh day of him silently sitting and reading, she spoke up.

"Would you like to go somewhere?" He lazily looked up.

"In what way?"

"You're obviously not going to leave me alone. That much is clear. So, why don't we go somewhere so we can get to know each other better." He raised an eyebrow. Hermione blushed. "No, not like that, you prat. I meant as people." He stared at her for a moment, before abruptly slamming the book he was holding shut. Hermione cringed. She hated when people disrespected books like that, even if it was rather dramatic.

"Of course. Where would you like to go?"

"There's a nice park near here. We could go there and talk. It's not like we can talk in here." The other people, dotted around the library, were already giving the pair dirty glances for imposing on their silence. "Come on, let's go." Hermione brought up her bag, hiding it under the table. She stuffed her books in it, not wanting Loki to see that it was a bottomless bag. The questions would be endless and end in an obliviate. Not something that she particularly wanted to do.

Silently, they stood and strode out of the library. It wasn't an awkward silence, though. More of a comfortable one. For some reason that she couldn't explain, Hermione was comfortable with Loki, even though he was nothing more than a stranger. She knew nothing about him except that he had an interest in Norse mythology and didn't understand science in the slightest, no matter how many physics books he read. It was amusing watching him try to decipher the passages that to her were child's play.

"We're almost there. Just a few more blocks, then we can sit down." Loki nodded.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take that bag? It had to be very heavy with all the books you're carrying."

"No!" Hermione answered. Almost too quickly. Her voice squeaked too. "What I meant to say is, I don't like other people carrying my stuff, is all."

"Alright, if that's the case."

"It is."

"The offer is always open."

"Then it will remain open for a very long time." Hermione sighed. This was the type of conversation she missed. It didn't happen very often now. She was so dedicated to her work that she didn't have much time to talk to people. Add in the factor that Harry and Ron were always off on various missions for the Auror department. She barely talked to them anymore. When she did, it was about work. Everything revolved around work. Somewhere, something had gone wrong. In all honestly, she missed the old days where they would laugh about a pencil case scooting around a table, cheering a certain one on.

Eventually, they reached the park. It wasn't large, just a small patch of grass with a few trees and one bench. At least there was no playground, with small children running around. As much as Hermione loved children, she didn't feel like dealing with their yelling and joyous screaming right now. All she needed right now was to get to know this strange man named Loki.

She plopped herself down on the bench and turned to Loki. "So, what is it you want to ask me, then?"

"I merely want to get to know you. Is that not normal?"

"I suppose it is normal enough. Come on, enough faffing around ask me some questions to get this conversation started. You managed to tear me away from my work, so this better be worth my time."

"Alright, then. What is it that makes you so dedicated to your work? What exactly is your work that requires you to research Norse mythology of all things?" Hermione faltered. That wasn't something she anticipated him asking.

"I'm a teacher," she blurted. "I'm doing a unit on mythology and trying to improve the current unit, which is subpar."

"You're lying."

"What makes you say that?" Hermione squeaked. Really, squeaking. It wasn't something she usually did. Nor something she ever intended to do again.

"You aren't a teacher."

"Yes I am."

"Then you must be a magical teacher, because you don't teach at a non-magical school."

Hermione stood suddenly. How did he knew about magic. She leaned in close.

"What do you know about me? Are you a spy, sent to...spy on me? Or worse. You're a reporter, aren't you? I knew it!" Of course, she didn't.

Loki looked scandalised at the very thought of being a reporter. "Please, I would never sink that low."

"That exactly the thing an undercover reporter would say."

"You are mistaken."

Hermione felt an inexplicable rage come over her. No matter what Loki said, she knew one thing to be true. He was not who she thought he was. And she would be having a talk with him, in a private place, where no one could see, about her privacy. Honestly, she thought that the papers were done with her. Surely thirteen years was a long enough period of time to get all the stories you could possibly need.

Apparently not.

Glaring at him, Hermione reached for his arm in one swift motion, turning on her heel the second she clasped onto his arm. After being pulled through a tube for a few seconds, they appeared in her flat. Loki was sprawled on the floor, groaning. Hermione made no effort to help him up. Instead, her arm was outstretched, wand in hand.

"Now you're going to tell me just who you are, _Loki._ If that is even your real name."

* * *

 _This is going to be a story of roughly three chapters. It won't be that long, not at all. It's a short story and will stay that way. Chapter two should be out in a few days. I apologise if they're out of character. This is something I am writing for fun._

 _Mariadoria._


	2. Reporters Are Insects

Loki gathered himself up from the floor, all elegantly gangling limbs. He couldn't believe that he actually _groaned._ What's worse, he was forcefully teleported. In a painful manner, as well. It was safe to assume that Hermione's form of sorcery was definitely different from his. He would almost say that it was more primitive, though he was yet to see just what she was capable of.

In front of him, Hermione was glaring, her eyes the sharpest daggers. If looks could kill, he would be dead. Maybe not dead. The glare had more of a 'if you so much as move I will severely maim you' look. Death was preferable over the second option.

"I assure you, I am not a reporter. I would never lower myself to the level of those insects." He said it with a sneer. Hermione didn't lower her wand. If anything, she held it tighter. "What will it take for you to believe that I am merely looking for a friend? I harbour no ulterior motives whatsoever."

"For the past thirteen years of my life, I have been stalked by reporters desperate for that one story," Hermione bit out. "How am I supposed to know that you actually _want_ ," she stressed the word, "to be my friend."

"So incredulous, my little minx," chuckled Loki.

"I am not your little anything!" hissed Hermione.

Loki raised an eyebrow. She seemed to be truly angry, though Loki still failed to understand her reasoning for it. All he did was ask a singular question about her job and mention magic. Surely, it wasn't enough to set her off. Then again, if she spent most of her life being hounded by reporters, he could see how a question about her work could be viewed as intrusive. And mentioning magic would make her realise that he possessed the same ability has her. Slowly, he was beginning to see her side of the exchange.

"Fair enough, I concede. It was not my place to call you that. But you're the one leaping to conclusions here, without a second thought. You _asked_ me to question you, yet when I do blow a fuse." The new phrase, picked up from a passing Midgardian, was strange on his tongue. Safe to say that he wouldn't be using it again.

"I suppose that you could be telling the truth."

"I am, for once."

Hermione's eyebrows crinkled. She didn't know whether to trust this strange man who had a wonderful way with words. Perhaps he was using his trickery to gain her trust, though if he was doing that, he most likely would have done it far sooner, rather than sitting across from her and glaring at a book on basic biology.

After a moment, she lowered her wand, though she didn't return it to it's holster. She wasn't going to trust him immediately. Their budding relationship was teetering. Hermione wouldn't hesitate to jinx him, teach him a lesson, if he so much as even snooped like a reporter.

Inside his head, Loki nodded. That was smart. Even though she looked relaxed, she was still on her guard. It would have fooled most people. Fortunately, Loki wasn't most people. He saw right through it. Not that it mattered. He wasn't going to attack the strange, bushy haired magician. Not when things were getting interesting.

Hermione sighed. "Alright, I admit, I was a bit quick jumping to conclusions."

"Too quick, if you ask me."

"Zip it, Loki."

"And why should I do that?"

"This isn't the time for snarky remarks."

"On the contrary, it is always the time for snarky remarks. I personally think they make a conversation just that little bit better. Especially when I'm talking to my boorish brother and his idiot friends."

Hermione, for once, was lost for words. In a few sentences, Loki managed to turn a cautious conversation into one that desperately made her want to forget her suspicions about him and join in. There was something about the way he weaved words. He almost had a silvertongue, a word she had never applied to anyone except her father before. Just like him, Loki could turn a conversation into something fun in seconds with a few simple phrases.

"And why should I trust you?" She asked. It was the only thing left to be asked. "Why should I let you be friends with me?"

"Because we share similar interests? Because we both like books?"

Hermione scoffed. "Oh please, don't try and trick me into thinking you actually knew what you were reading. You were as confused as a troll in a girls bathroom." Loki blinked at the analogy. That was certainly something he'd never been called before. It wasn't even a comparison he'd heard before.

"Alright. I'll be frank."

"Please, be my guest."

"I don't have many friends." Loki bitterly bit the words out. "You were the only person to actually be remotely kind to me, and trust me, there were many people I approached." He saddened slightly, shoulders drooping an infinitesimal amount. Hermione sighed.

"Tell you what," she began. "Let's start again. Sit down on the couch, I'll make some tea. Then we can start again, without all of this kerfuffle."

"That would be nice."

Hermione nodded, moving into her small kitchen. She didn't have need for a large one, as she lived on her own. Most of her cooking was done by magic, so she didn't spend much time in the kitchen anyway. The jewel of her little flat was the not so small library and study room. It was magically expanded, with hundreds of books crammed onto large, light bookshelves. Her favourite place was the desk near the window, overlooking the bustling street below. Next to it was a large recliner seat, where she read her many tomes.

With a flick of her wand and a whispered incantation, she set the tea to brew and pour itself, before floating over to her small but cozy lounge.

With that done, Hermione returned to the lounge to find Loki squished back into her armchair, perplexed about something. He glanced up and she sat down on the couch.

"Good, you have returned. I must ask you, how have you enchanted this seat to be so...divine? There is nothing like this back home. Where can I get one?"

Hermione giggled. "It's just one I bought at a local furniture store. I can show it to you later, if you want."

"Maybe that would be nice. I could take it home with me and be the envy of all my associates." Loki stuck his nose in the air, rather comically. Something about Hermione just made him relax. Like he didn't need to be all proper and brooding. He couldn't remember the last time in his thousand year lifespan that he'd just let go and had a bit of fun.

"A chair will make you the envy of all your 'associates'," said Hermione. "You do realise how silly that sounds, right."

"Certainly. That is the reason I said it. Do try to keep up."

"I think it's you who needs to try to keep up," challenged Hermione. Loki bolted upright at the challenge, eyes gleaming dangerously. Hermione stared right back at him. Their little contest continued, until it was interrupted by the clinking of a floating tea set. Hermione plucked it out of the air and handed a cup to Loki, before taking one for herself. It gently drifted down to the coffee table between them.

"It's a strange form of magic you have." And that was exactly what Loki thought. Using a wand for magic was something he'd never seen before. He'd heard of it. But never seen it with his own eyes, not in all his travels. To say it was strange to him was a gross understatement.

Hermione gave a laugh. "What do you mean, strange? It's exactly like everyone else."

"Not like me."

"What, are you going to tell me you have some different, more evolved type of magic far superior to my own?" joked Hermione. Loki kept a straight face. "You've got to be kidding me. I knew you were a jerk."

"I swear to you, your magic is different from what I know. I've heard stories of your kind of magic, but only in the most ancient of tomes."

"Well, I don't know where you're getting your information, but wherever it is, you're very shut off from the rest of the magical community, aren't you?"

"I'm not even a part of yours, no."

"Okay, then. If you've got such a different type of magic, show me. Surely, there must be something you can do to impress me," Hermione pressed. Her curiosity was beginning to peak. Of course, she doubted that his magic was different. He seemed the sort of person to make himself seem grander than he actually was.

Hermione watched, skeptical as ever, as Loki cupped his hands together. For a second, nothing happened. Then, a soft, green glow began filtering through the gaps between his fingers. Suddenly not so skeptical, an enthralled Hermione gasped softly as a small bird, made up of green light, poked its head through Loki's hands. It chirped softly, before taking off.

It flapped around the room, leaving glittering green trails hanging in the air wherever it flew. They looped around, creating intricate patterns as the bird twisted and dove. Hermione couldn't keep her eyes off the ethereal creature. Soon, it landed on her shoulder, burrowing into her hair. She laughed lightly, unable to believe what she was seeing.

With just his hands, and no wand. Loki had created something that Hermione had never seen before. A piece of magic that was unknown to her. And the small bird, in so many beautiful jewel shades of green, now nestled in her hair, was the result. She couldn't quite believe it, though she was beginning to. There was no trickey involved in what Loki just did. He didn't have a wand, at least not one that she could see, and creating birds of light with your hands was not something that was possible in the wizarding world.

Maybe it wasn't such a drastic conclusion to come to, that Loki was from another community of magical people. Maybe they wielded magic in a completely foreign way to her. And maybe it was possible that Loki was telling the truth about it being different. There was a different feel about the magical bird on her shoulder. Something that she couldn't quite pinpoint. It was in the way if felt, she knew that much. There was only one way to find out about this mysterious brand of magic. A devious grin passed over Hermione's face.

"Tell me everything."

Loki chuckled. "So you believe me now?"

"That's still up in the air. When you tell me about your kind of magic, then I will decide whether I believe you. So, first things first, how did you channel it? You're obviously not using a wand or a focus of any type. Is there a specific ritual you undergo to be able to do it? Are you able to―" Hermione's babbling was cut off by a hysterical Loki.

He was almost doubled over with laughter, great tremors wracking his body. He gasped for breath, before continuing. He sat up and pointed a finger at Hermione, before gasping out, "You―" He could barely get one word in before collapsing again.

All the while, Hermione just stared on in shock. This was very unlike the quiet, arrogant man. She certainly didn't expect him to fall into a fit because of a few questions. She really didn't know what was so amusing about her questioning. It was one of the only ways to get information off someone, wasn't it? So why did he find it so funny.

Eventually, Loki stopped his ridiculous display, wiping tears from his eyes. A second later, he seemed to realise what he was doing. His posture straightened immediately, eyes losing their mirth.

"If we could just forget that ever happened, please."

"Nope. Never going to happen."

"Oh, alright then. But it stays between us. No one else shall ever know."

"Now that is something I can work with. If I may ask, what exactly did you find so hysterical about my questions?" Hermione needed to know.

"It was the sudden change in mood. One minute you're skeptical, the next you're dishing out questions faster than Volstagg can eat a boar. And that is saying something." Loki noticed the way Hermione's eyebrows knitted together, before her face cleared. It was like she had discovered something but wasn't willing to divulge it yet. He would find out eventually, that much was for certain. But for now, let her have her little secrets.

Loki clapped his hands together. "Now, I think it's only fair that you show me a bit of your magic." He sat back in his chair expectantly, crossing his arms. "I'm waiting."

"I suppose that's fair. Just don't make this little guy disappear." Hermione glanced fondly at the little bird still on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, I won't. He's yours, if you want."

"Cool. Guess I'll show you my magic now." Hermione stood back a little, mulling over what she could show him. There were so many possibilities for what she could show him. Maybe there was something she could do that was similar to his bird. Something to do with light. Something that made her feel warm.

A sudden thought thundered into her head. A patronus. Of course. What better thing to show him? Hermione plucked her wand out of the holster and held it tight in her hand. She closed her eyes and sorted through her memories, finding that golden gem of a memory. She knew it was there. She knew what it was. It was of when she was given her new position within the ministry.

She raised her wand upwards and whispered the incantation.

" _Expecto Patronum._ " There was second where nothing happened, before a silver otter leaped out of her wand, gently landing on the floor. A sense of happiness began emanating around the room. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She hadn't been sure if it was going to work at all. The Patronus charm was one that she always had difficulty with. It wasn't as prevalent now, but if you asked her to perform one on the spot ten years ago, the result would have been drastically different.

The Patronus locked eyes with Loki, before leaping up onto his lap. It curled up into a ball, squeaking slightly, before closing its eyes. Hermione sighed softly. There was something about her Patronus that always calmed her down. It was easy to know why, but it was something about hers. Never anyone else's. Always her own little silvery otter.

Loki, on the other hand, wasn't sure what to do. Sleeping on his lap was a divine creature made of soft silver light. But that wasn't what was so strange, what had him almost disabled in curiosity. The creature was emanating calm and happiness. He felt light, lighter than he'd been in years. Like there were no worries in the world.

"This is amazing," he breathed, not daring to disturb it. "How could you create something so beautiful? And what is it?"

Hermione sat back down on the couch. "It's a patronus, made up of my happiest memory. It's the counter to a foul magical creature called a Dementor. It's lovely, isn't it?"

"You could say that." Loki's eyes were drooping. Hermione glanced out of the window. The sun was beginning to set. Time had flown by, unbeknownst to her. She was beginning to feel a bit drowsy herself. Probably the Patronus, she mused.

Suddenly, the Patronus leaped up and ran over to her lap. Hermione barely noticed as sleepiness overtook her and her eyes closed.

Loki slumped slightly, before standing up and moving over to where Hermione was sitting on the couch. He flopped down next to her, deciding to put his pride to the side for one evening. It felt nice to be friends with someone who accepted him for who he was, no strings attached. Add in the fact that she was able to produce the magnificent Patronus now resting on her lap, and he knew that they would stay friends for a long time.

And though today had been a rollercoaster, and completely out of character for him, Loki leaned back on the strangely comfortable couch and closed his eyes, reveling in the calm of the silver otter and sleeping woman beside him.

Hermione Granger.

A strange name for a strange woman.

And yet he wouldn't trade this strange week and strange day for anything.

* * *

 _That took a little longer than expected. I know that there's a lot of talking and not much doing, but that's coming next chapter, which is also the last. I will be leaving a possibility for a sequel in case I want to write that, though. Hope you enjoyed reading._

 _Mariadoria._


	3. Can't Weasel Away From This One

It was phenomenal how time flew. The past few days, weeks, months, they all passed by in an instant, a blink of the eyes, or a snap of the fingers. Then again, that is what happens when you're spending time with someone who you get along with. You don't look, don't notice, how time is passing, until you glance at the clock and realise that five hours, ten hours, twelve hours, have all passed. This was something that hadn't happened to Hermione in years.

And she was relishing every single moment of it.

In the first week after their spat, Hermione found out that Loki was sleeping in a hotel. That was fine. What wasn't was the fact that to get into his room at the hotel, Loki had played a mind trick on the lady at the desk and managed to get a room for free. Appalled by his arrogance and lack of honesty, Hermione decided that he could stay in her spare room until he found himself a better place to stay.

Of course, Loki vehemently opposed this. Unfortunately for him, the thirty year old witch was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't taking no for an answer. So, after hours of being lectured and berated about _ethics_ of all things, Loki begrudgingly moved in to the spare room. He made it known that the arrangement was merely temporary. Only a place for him to stay. Meant to last for no more than two weeks.

Yet, three months later, he was still there. And, for some unknown reason, Loki began to think of the little room as his own. Hermione gave him the go ahead to decorate it however he wanted. Loki didn't decorate it for the first few days, knowing that it was a sign of staying. Yet, after a few more cheeky remarks from Hermione, who was quickly becoming his best friend, he changed the walls to a nice light green colour. Normally, it would be a bit darker and intense, but that was Asgard, not Hermione's cheery little flat covered in knick-knacks and bric-a-brac. Strangely, he found that he liked the room even more and decided that a few more weeks wouldn't hurt anybody.

It was at the end of his third month on Midgard that he realised he wanted to stay in the tiny flat, with such a large comparison to his opulent suite on Asgard. Yet, he didn't mind it. He became used to it. His own little room, completely his own. But most importantly, there were no blonde brothers bursting in, crowing about fights yet to be won and past victories.

In the second week after their spat, Loki let slip that he only had one change of clothes, kept clean by magic. He also changed the look of them with magic. To Hermione, this was unacceptable. So, the next day, she hoisted her little purple bag over her shoulder and dragged a spluttering Loki out to a local department store. When they arrived, he stood in the middle of the vast racks of clothes, eyes wide, looking very much like a lost duckling. Hermione chuckled and pulled him over to the mens section. He tried to make a run for it.

Hermione didn't let him.

After many protests, a grumbling Loki managed to pick up some clothes and disappear into the changing room. Twenty minutes later, a very worried Hermione banged on the door. It was then that she found out that not only was Loki arrogant and a jerk, he was also a very fashion conscious man. She would never forget him berating a pair of jeans, black of course, because they didn't fit him particularly well, nor the look on Loki's face when she caught him. She also gained a new nickname for him that. 'Fop.'

Conveniently, Loki hated it. Whenever Hermione needed his help with her Norse Mythology assignment, she just called that out and a furious Loki barged into the room.

In the third week, Loki decided to try and see if Hermione was capable of any of his magic. The second he proposed finding out, Hermione turned into a rabid dog, pushing him out into the lounge and planting him down in his new chair she bought for him. He explained how they would do it and Hermione nodded, barely able to contain her excitement.

As it turned out, she was capable of very low levels of Asgardian magic. This pleased Hermione immensely, even though there was barely anything she could do. The most she would be able to achieve, Loki knew, was create a soft light source with a wave of her hand. Strangely, to him, even this was enough for Hermione. It was then he found out that Hermione was pleased with new knowledge and abilities, no matter how small.

One very useful spell he could teach her was one that located people according to their magical signature. It was one of the most basic pieces of magic around and worked ridiculously well, with very little power. Loki knew for a fact that it worked throughout the nine realms. Not that Hermione would be able to channel enough power to make it go further than England. Nevertheless, he found himself smiling gently when she finally got it right. He enjoyed teaching her little pieces of his magic. It was like sharing something intimate, something he never thought he would share. She also had a particular affinity to teleporting the Asgardian way, which was far less violent than her cell splintering 'apparition.'

In return, Hermione tried to teach him pieces of her magic. Unfortunately, after only one attempt and nearly blowing up Hermione's lounge, they found out that it definitely wasn't possible. He just wasn't compatible. Typically, they launched into an in-depth discussion about why he couldn't, laughing throughout it and coming to a logical conclusion through sheer determination.

And that was how life carried on. Loki becoming more used to his fleeting time on Midgard. Hermione becoming accustomed to the presence of the odd man in her flat. The second chair in the living room which he often curled up in, or floated into her study. If Hermione didn't know better, she would say that Loki was more human than the first day she met him in the library.

Loki, on the other hand, knew he was changing. For once, though, he didn't try to stop it. They weren't big changes, just little things. Like learning that you didn't have to be serious all the time. Or that tea, a steaming hot liquid he had never encountered before, was brilliant. But, through all of this, he was constantly aware of his time with Hermione slowly dripping down the drain. There was only two weeks before Thor's coronation. That meant he had one week left on Midgard before he was required to return. That traitorous thought was often pushed from his mind, though. He didn't need that brooding cloud ruining what little time he had left with Hermione.

* * *

Hermione sighed contentedly as she pushed her chair under her desk, leaving little tracks in the plush carpet. Soon, her assignment would be done. Personally, she thought that it was the best piece of work she had ever done, and that was saying something. Though, that wasn't where her thoughts were today. No, not at all.

Today, she had a surprise for Loki. With all his pestering about her family, she finally decided to take him to meet the Weasley family. She wasn't quite sure that her parents would be able to handle the strange man just yet, so the Weasleys were the best bet. Harry and Ron would be there as well, which was great. It was a long while since Hermione saw them last, so it would be good to catch up. They weren't as close as they used to be, a fact that sometimes saddened her. Sure, Ron and Harry were like peas in a pod, but she was lying on the outside.

Shaking her head of those thoughts, Hermione walked into the lounge. Sitting in his usual green chair was Loki, deeply engrossed in a thick book. She wasn't quite sure what it was about. These days there were so many books crammed into her little library and lining the hallways that she couldn't keep track of all of them.

"Hey," she said softly, sitting down in her own dark blue chair, "how are you?"

Loki lazily glanced up. "I was going quite well, until you ripped me away from this fascinating tale." He returned his head to it. She groaned. Now she knew how Harry and Ron felt when they were fighting with a book for her attention.

"How do you feel about meeting my family? Well, surrogate family My parents wouldn't be able to handle you quite yet." And it was true. They would freak out the second Loki walked in. As accepting as they were about her magic, it still unnerved them. She would slowly introduce him to them, getting them used to the idea first.

Once again, Loki looked up. Only this time, he was interested. "I would like that, yes. You've finally given in, I see. Tomorrow will be fine." He returned to the book. Hermione hissed in frustration. Oh, this was infuriating. Loki did that sometimes. Well, a lot of the time, actually. Sometimes Hermione wondered why she kept the fop around at all.

"Actually, we're leaving in ten minutes."

"I'll be ready." This time he didn't even bother to make eye contact. Finally having enough, Hermione marched across to his chair and snatched the book out of his hands, gently closing it and placing it on the coffee table, after noting his page number. Loki glared at her, though didn't reach for it, knowing that with the 'book harpy' in front of it, there was no use trying to reacquire it.

"You know, when you're talking to people, it's nice to give them your attention, rather than a book." Loki raised an eyebrow.

"Usually, I would agree with that particular sentiment, Hermione. But, coming from you, I can do nothing more than laugh. You do exactly the same. It's a bit rich coming from you, all things considered."

Hermione flopped back down with a huff. "I thought you would be just slightly more interested in meeting them."

"Oh, I am interested."

"Well, you don't look it."

"Do I ever?"

"Fair point," Hermione conceded. "Come on. Surely you can dredge up a little bit more enthusiasm. Oh, and by the way, it isn't a fancy place that we are going."

"Has that ever mattered to me?" Somehow, he managed to say it with a straight face. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't manage to keep herself together, collapsing into giggles.

"You know it has, Loki. Don't think I have forgotten your complaints about your aversion to the 'pitifully plain room you want me to stay in'," Hermione snorted, only causing her to laugh harder. Finally, Loki conceded and cracked a smile.

"I don't know how you do it, Hermione," Loki began, "but you always manage to make me laugh."

"Good." Hermione sobered up. "You need it. I've only known you for a few months, but trust me, I can tell you don't laugh a lot. At least, you didn't before you met me. Guess I've done you some good, eh?"

"More than some," Loki muttered. Hermione glanced curiously at him.

"What was that?"

"Absolutely nothing of your concern," Loki said tersely. Hermione shrugged. He didn't want to share, so she wouldn't push. That was something that she liked about their friendship. They both respected each other's boundaries, knowing when the other person didn't want to share. It made Hermione realise how lucky she was to have a friend like Loki, no matter how haughty he was. And she supposed that maybe, just maybe, Loki considered himself lucky to have her as a friend. She would never know, though there was nothing wrong with hoping.

"Oh, before we go," said Hermione. "If you're going to use magic, you're going to have to make it look like you're channeling it through a wand." Loki raised an eyebrow. She knew he couldn't possibly use a wand. "So, I took the liberty of getting you a stick that looks like a wand." She delved into her bag, up to her shoulder in it. "Aha, here we go."

Hermione pulled out a dark stick of wood with an intricately carved handle and some vines twined around it. She thrust it at Loki. "Make sure to use it if you perform any of your magic. Non-verbal magic is possible, so they won't question it. Just don't do anything without it, kapeesh?"

"I suppose I must lower myself to your standards," Loki sighed dramatically, before cracking a smile. "It does make sense, though. I must ask, where did you get this stick?"

"I have a friend whose hobby is carving wood. Wasn't too hard to get him to do it, he owed me a favour anyway." Hermione slung her bag back over her shoulder. "Alright then. Shall we go?"

"Why not?"

With a smirk, Hermione linked her arms through Loki's. After a few weeks of practice, she was far more comfortable using his form of teleportation. It was gentle and silent, feeling like a slight breeze was blowing over you. It was a stark comparison to the extreme compression of apparition. Hermione had grown to immensely prefer it, even though she often landed a few metres off her destination.

Loki nodded at her and Hermione thought of the Burrow. A small gust of wind buffeted their faces, then stopped. They were standing in the slightly overgrown yard of the Burrow. Itchy grass waved brushed up against their legs and gnarled trees gripped onto the crumbling brick wall bordering the large property. Ahead, was the haphazard house known as the Burrow, held up by magic and live in by impossibly welcoming people.

"Well, this is...different."

Hermione gently elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted and decided that keeping his mouth shut would be a better idea, rather than facing the lecture he was sure to get.

"It may be different, but this place is practically a third home to me. Come on, they're waiting inside."

"Let the games begin, then."

In a comfortable silence, Hermione and Loki stepped through the field, coming closer to the door of the burrow. They reached the door and Hermione raised her hand to knock on it. She did, three times.

Almost immediately, the door was thrown open. A plump woman with greying ginger hair hurried out, enveloping Hermione with such force that she nearly bowled her over. Loki took a cautious step back. If this woman was anything like Hermione, then she was a force to be reckoned with. He knew that appearances could be deceiving, so he wasn't making assumptions based on her warm, welcoming eyes and tattered floral apron.

He would never make that mistake again.

"Oh, Hermione, it's so good to see you dear," exclaimed Mrs. Weasley. She cupped Hermione's cheeks. "Look at you, so mature. Come in, come in." For an unknown reason, she didn't even notice Loki standing beside Hermione. Her arms flapped around, clearly anxious about something, though Loki couldn't place it. It was something small, that was for sure.

"It's great to see you too, Molly," Hermione replied. "Can we come inside?"

"Of course dear―wait, we?" Mrs. Weasley suddenly saw the tall, imposing figure of Loki standing behind Hermione. Her eyes widened comically and she placed a hand over her heart. "Merlin's beard! Don't give me a fright like that!"

"Hello," Loki said gingerly. He raised a hand and waved slightly. "I'm Loki, nice to meet you." Mrs. Weasley looked him up and down, eyes narrowed.

"Nice to meet you too. I've got food on the table. Go and eat some, you're thin as a rake." With that, she ushered them inside, gesturing frantically with her hand. The door shut behind them and Loki took in the strange room in front of him. It had a relatively high ceiling, though the paint was chipping off the walls. Couches were positions haphazardly around the room, blankets and cushions thrown at random over them. The colours clashed horribly, though it seemed to work. Overall, Loki got an overwhelming feeling of 'home' and 'safe.'

It was strange, to say in the least. Never before had Loki entered a building such as this, one that seemed to rush forwards and embrace him, exactly like Mrs. Weasley. It was comforting, in an unorthodox way.

He ducked through a doorframe, into what was obviously the dining room. A long, wooden table, faded and chipped, stretched along the length of it. It was meant for a lot of people, that much was clear. People who clearly weren't here at the moment. Loki supposed that they were going to arrive later. Surely they weren't coming here just to meet Mrs. Weasley, as lovely as she was.

"Come on, sit down." Loki squawked in indignation as he was manhandled into a seat. A steaming plate of food, piled as high as it could go, was set down on the table in front of him. He had to admit, it smelled delicious. Although, it looked strange. It was food he'd never seen before. "Eat," Mrs. Weasley insisted. "I usually would wait for the others to arrive, but you're far too thin. I ought to keep you here until you look a bit more healthy."

"I assure you, I'm quite healthy," said Loki. "Thought I won't refuse your offer of this delectable looking meal."

Mrs. Weasley smiled. "Now, flattery won't get you anywhere. And who said it was an offer? Eat!" She once again flapped her hands in front of Loki's face, before bustling off to the kitchen, wand held in her hand. She was definitely a character, Loki thought. Never in his life had he met anyone even remotely like her. He wasn't complaining, though.

Hermione sat down opposite him, smirking. "So, what do you think of Molly?"

"She certainly something," he said, leaning back in the seat and crossing his arms. "Though, I must say, an excellent cook."

"That is true."

"Eat, Loki!" came the voice of Mrs. Weasley from the kitchen. Hermione laughed.

"You better eat, otherwise she becomes quite like a harpy. A very motherly one."

"Can't argue with that." Loki picked up his knife and fork and began digging into his food. It melted in his mouth. Soon, it was completely gone, his plate cleared. As soon as he put down the cutlery in the polite way that Hermione taught him, a loud crack echoed through the air. Mrs. Weasley practically ran to the door, as three more loud cracks reached their ears.

"Looks like the rest of the gang has arrived," said Hermione. "Want to go and meet them? I'm going."

"No, I think I would like to sit here and contemplate where this food has been all of my existence." Hermione laughed, grabbing his wrist.

"Come on."

She dragged him back to the lounge, where Mrs. Weasley was greeting a lot of people. Loki blinked. He didn't know that there could be such a sheer volume of redheads in one place. There were so many of them he was tempted to rub his eyes to double check if he was seeing things.

"They," Hermione said, pointing at the congregation, "are the Weasleys. Famous for their red hair."

"I can see why."

"Ron and Harry aren't here, though." She deflated a little bit. "Guess that can be expected. The Dark Wizards are going crazy at the moment. They must be on a mission."

"I'm sure they'll turn up," said Loki.

"No, they won't. Don't try to give me false hope." Loki sighed. He knew she was looking forward to seeing her best friends again. Then again, he also knew that they couldn't control what missions and assignments they went on, due to the unpredictable nature of their job. He glanced at Hermione. She shot him a look that told him to drop it.

So he did.

Mrs. Weasley ushered them all inside. Soon, everyone found a place on the multitude of couches. Loki and Hermione were squished between two tall, lanky men, one with scars all over his face and the other wearing horn rimmed glasses.

"Alright, everyone. Thanks for coming. Dinner will be on the table soon."

Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen, leaving Loki in the middle of a group of happily chatting family members. He wasn't quite sure what to do in the situation. Social gatherings were never his forte, as much as he liked to pretend that they were. Maybe if he just stayed silent and hoped that it would be over soon then he would be fine. It wasn't like he could leave a replica of himself and flee to the outside. They would spot that.

"So, who're you, then?" The man to his right started talking to him.

"Loki. Just Loki. And you?"

"Percy, nice to meet you. You probably want to go and talk to George, over there." Percy gestured to the slightly stockier ginger man, George. Oddly enough, he looked lonely, even though he was surrounded by a crowd. Like he was missing something more than his ear.

"And why is that?" asked Loki.

"You share the name of one of his idols, Loki Odinson, God of Mischief and all things 'bright and beautiful,'" Percy said nonchalantly. Loki almost choked. He couldn't have someone find out who he was, not here, not now. He was enjoying the anonymity.

"I get that a lot," Loki stuttered. He stood and moved to the spare spot next to George, who waved cheerily.

"Nice to meet you, mate. How'd you end up with a name like Loki? Some parents you must have."

"Believe it or not, Hermione said exactly the same thing. And some parents indeed." He was referring to his father, of course. Frigga was different to his father.

"And it's not just the name, either," chimed Hermione. "He also has extensive knowledge of Norse Mythology. He's been helping me with my work assignment."

George raised an eyebrow. "Really? Alright, then, tell me something cool about Norse mythology. Preferably something about Loki." Loki smirked. Now that was something he could tell them. And blaming his intimate knowledge on his family being enthusiasts about Norse mythology would be easy as pie. He was fantastic at lying. Well, in this case, it was more of a misdirection, than a lie. He found himself doing it a lot, these days, especially around Hermione. She did ask a great load of questions that could be very exposing if he answered them wrong.

"You've got your wish. Oh, you know what?" Loki stood up in the middle of the lounge. If he was going to tell a story, he was going to tell it properly. They wanted it, and they would receive it. For once, a chance to talk about himself without invasive questions about Thor.

"What?" asked the man Loki knew was called Bill.

"I can act. I'll play the part of Loki, shouldn't be a problem. Just give me a second." Loki pulled out the stick Hermione gave him earlier and swished it in a random pattern. His normal clothes disappeared in an instant, being replaced with his regal Asgardian attire, sans horned helmet. That was for the most formal of occasions, not telling a story.

"Nice getup, mate," said Bill. "Real faithful to the legends."

"Well, when my parents are who they are, its kind of hard not to know it off by heart. Now, do you want me to tell the story or not?"

"You even asking that?" said George. He was grinning from air to air. Bill put his head in his hands. Though the worst of George's obsession with Loki and the Marauders was over, he still had the occasional relapse. And now this new friend of Hermione's certainly wasn't helping with the fact that he looked exactly like the myth.

"You see, it all began when my boorish brother and I decided to go hunting in the forests of Asgard, for a bilgesnipe. It was to be but a simple hunt, as bilgesnipe aren't the most subtle of creatures―"

Suddenly, a silver stag crashed through the walls of the house. It galloped into the centre of the room, throwing its massive antlers about, booting Loki out of his spot. The stag opened its mouth and began to speak in an urgent voice.

"Molly, we're in danger. It's worse out here than we thought. I don't know if we're going to come back in one piece." Hermione gave a terrible moan, putting her hands over her mouth. Loki guessed that this was Harry speaking. "We need back-up. I sent the patronus to you because the Auror department is too far away. We're in Totnes, the Ministry will know the location. Pass on this message. It is urgent. We need backup now or we might not make it out alive."

The stag faded away into mist, leaving the room in a terrible, crushing silence. Then Hermione urgently stood, yelling into the kitchen.

"Molly, floo the Ministry, tell them that Harry and Ron need urgent backup in Totnes." Then, she turned to Loki, fire blazing in her eyes. "Now you know that I'm not just going to sit here while they fight, Loki. So, what do you say. Want to come with me?" She held out her hand, not paying attention to the sudden clamour of noise and objection around her.

She didn't see Mrs. Weasley frantically run into the lounge to stop her, nor did she notice how everyone stood up and moved towards the pair. Loki did, though and urged her to be quick.

"Of course." Loki grabbed onto Hermione's hand and let her teleport them to wherever Totnes was. A slight breeze blew over them and...there was fire all around them, licking the buildings and devouring the sky. Screams were everywhere, piercing into their hearts.

* * *

He wasn't expecting to fight today. But here was, heading towards what seemed to be a devastating battle, with Hermione, who he knew was a warrior from her tales of the Second Wizarding War. Yes, he wasn't expecting to fight today. There was one thing he knew for certain, though.

They were going to go in there.

And they were going to _**win**_ _._

* * *

 _Bit longer than I expected. This was actually meant to be the last chapter, but there was too much to fit into one, so the next chapter is a continuation of this one. As most chapters usually are. I'm actually getting ideas for a longer storyline for this story, so it may turn out a little longer than expected, but I'm happy about that. It's a natural thing for it to happen, so I'm going to let this little bunny grow, even though some pruning my need to be done in places. As is normal._

 _Thank you to all who read, reviewed, favourited and followed. I appreciate it so much._

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria._


	4. Lumos, Indeed

The first thing that Hermione felt when they arrived in the already decimated town was a crushing sense of regret. Regret that she couldn't get there earlier, regret over the crying children huddled underneath crumbling rubble, dirt and tears staining their faces. And then, an icy calm began to fill her. This was what she fought against in the Battle of Hogwarts, so no one would ever have to go through this again. So no one would ever have to know the terror and tyranny of war. And yet, here they were, sitting on the precipice of a secret war. Hermione wasn't stupid. She knew what the beginnings of war looked like.

And this was it.

No wonder Harry and Ron were busy, they were fighting this bunch, keeping it out of the papers, keeping people calm and letting them live their lives while they fought to keep people safe. All the little gripes she had voiced and thought about them over the past month shriveled up, burning and turning into ash. All she wished was that they had told her what was going on, so she could help.

Next to her, Loki was gazing at the devastation in front of them, eyes reflecting the constant explosions. Hermione didn't know what to think about his expression. She didn't know if he was excited or angry. There was no time for that, not now. Not here.

"We need to get to the centre of the town," yelled Hermione. "That's where the main fight is. The Aurors will arrive soon. We just need to keep the dark wizards busy until they arrive, so they don't think to attack the children."

Loki nodded, for once agreeing with what Hermione was saying without any silly little quips. "How far away is this town centre?"

"I don't know, I've only been to this street. I know it's somewhere in―"

Hermione was cut off by a loud, " _Bombarda_!" behind her. She whipped around and only just erected a shield in time to stop half a building from falling on them and crushing them. The rubble crashed down onto the small, domed shield around them. Dust clouds flew through the air. They were completely surrounded by rubble. If Hermione let the shield go, they would be crushed. She could already feel the strain on her magic as she struggled to hold the shield up. It was beginning to crack and splinter. She could hear the muffled jeering and laughter of the enemy through the shield. If someone didn't do something soon, they would be crushed.

"Loki! Move the rubble." Hermione bit the words out, gritting her teeth with the strain of keeping the shield up. "DO IT!" She screamed out, trying to keep it up. Loki swished his hands to the right. A green light enveloped the rubble and it shot to the rights, colliding with the building with a great boom.

The difference was immediate. Hermione felt like a great weight had been taken off her shoulders. She took the shield down and stood, slightly unstable on her feet. There was no time for that, though. The person who had cast the spell was still standing behind them. No, there wasn't just the caster. There were three of them, two wizards and one witch. They were swathed in dark robes, robes made especially for combat. Their faces were dark, though from what she could make out, there were glimpses of silver coming through. It didn't cover their entire faces, though. The group was so similar to the Death Eaters that Hermione repressed a shiver.

"What do you want?" cried Hermione, wand outstretched. She was ready for a duel. Loki was as well, hands up in a defensive stance. She would have to thank him for moving the rubble later.

The man, who was obviously in charge of the small group, sauntered forward. "And if it isn't the great Hermione Granger?" he mocked. "So honoured that our fight garnered such attention. We have all of the Golden Trio here. Isn't that wonderful?" The other two lackeys sniggered.

"No, it isn't," hissed Hermione. "Go back to where you came from."

"No can do, I'm afraid." It was then that Hermione realised something. The man in front of her, he was young. Impossibly young. He sounded like he was just out of Hogwarts. He couldn't be older than nineteen. What could have happened over the thirteen years since the Battle of Hogwarts to motivate people to join the Dark Side?

A solitary tear slid down her cheek.

Hermione heard another group of people approaching from behind her. Loki straightened, heading towards them with a slow, predatory walk, hands outstretched a glowing green. Hermione turned back to the three in front of her. She would have to deal with them on her own. She steeled herself and glared at them.

Raising her wand, Hermione yelled, " _Lumos Maxima!_ " A bright ball of light left her wand and collided with the face of the woman on the left. She fell to the ground as the light left her unable to see, clawing at her eyes. There was no time to focus on her, though. There were still two people left to take down, and she would be back up in a minute. Just to be sure, Hermione shot a, _"Stupefy!_ " at the woman. These people had no experience duelling. None whatsoever.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " The green curse flew towards her. Hermione deftly dodged it and started getting back into the swing of duelling for her life. For every offensive spell they sent her way, she erected a shield to bounce their spells back at them, like a mirror. She used a large repertoire of spells, while they kept to a maximum of five.

And with her hair flying, eyes gleaming and wand blazing, Hermione didn't hear the curse coming from behind her until it was too late.

" _CRUCIO!_ "

* * *

Loki easily disabled the three wizards that rushed towards him with a flick of his finger. They went spiralling through the air, landing heavily on the pile of debris he shifted earlier. He would have turned around to air Hermione, except hordes of people in dark robes kept rushing towards him, wands out, deadly curses lacing their lips. Soon, there were so many that even he was struggling. He was going to have to step up the game.

Loki erected a giant shield, tinged green. A second before he did, a woman slipped past, with a yell of 'crucio,' whatever that was. He easily dodged the curse and kept his giant shield up. Hermione could take care of the witch, she was more than capable. He had this giant crowd to deal with.

Then, from behind him, he heard a blood curdling scream. Loki whipped around and found Hermione writhing on the debris covered ground, screaming in excruciating pain. The witch from before was holding the curse, a look of sadistic glee plastered over her face. Loki rushed forward and full on tackled her to the ground, before picking her up by her throat. He was relieved to hear that Hermione wasn't screaming anymore. He knew that the other two she had been fighting were approaching her trembling form. So, while holding the woman up by her throat, he sent a shockwave of energy that vaporized them.

They were nothing more than dust.

He turned his head back to the woman, who was now pitifully clawing at his hands. "Tell me," he growled. "TELL ME!"

"Gibbons," she rasped, legs flailing. "Let me go!" Loki sneered at her, before ramming her against a wall. She spat at him.

"You think that after hurting my best friend like you just did, I will just let you go?" Loki snarled. "You think that after torturing her like that, I will let you run on your merry way? Give me one good reason why I should." Her face was turning blue now. She was gasping for air that wasn't there, taking deep, desperate gulps.

"You're no better than I am," she said, satisfaction colouring her failing voice. "If you're on her side, you won't kill me. You never do―ACK!" Loki was now gripping her neck impossibly tight.

"Wrong," he hissed. "I am far better than you will ever be. And I'm not afraid to kill you." He put his face right up in hers, making sure that the last thing she would ever see was his infuriated face, his eyes that were almost glowing with power. "So let go."

A hideous snap echoed through the alley as Gibbons fell to the ground, utterly lifeless. She was nothing more than a twisted ragdoll now. He turned to the wizards still attacking the shield, though the numbers were thinning now, after watching his ruthless display. Loki knew now that they were all operating under the assumption that the Light side was too kind to kill them. They thought they would just be thrown into Azkaban without a second thought, where they could just break out again.

Now they knew that wasn't the truth.

"You're children, all of you!" Loki yelled, pointing at them. "Cowards who hide behind masks, thinking that the other side is too good to sink to your level." They all took a step back as his hands began glowing. He shook his sleeves and his trusty fighting knives descended into his hands. "Well, I'm already below your level." His voice was quiet now, barely a whisper. Yet there was silence, a heavy pressing silence, smothering everyone except him like a blanket. "So, unless you want to die today, I recommend you _leave._ " He took a threatening step towards them. "NOW!"

Immediately, they all fled. All traces of false bravado were gone when they realised that there was actual danger of death to be found on this particular street. Loki sneered at their retreating backs. He knew their type. Confident until someone showed them the truth of battle, that they could very easily die. Then they scurried away like the ants they were. They were nothing more than insects under Loki's boot.

He turned around and rushed to Hermione's side. She was still whimpering on the ground, muttering nonsensical things about wanting it to be over. Loki felt anger swirl deep in his gut. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. They were supposed to win, not be brutally tortured.

* * *

Hermione knew she needed to open her eyes. She couldn't just lay down in the middle of a battlefield and recover from the aftereffects to the Cruciatus Curse. She hadn't been under it since Bellatrix LeStrange tortured her at Malfoy Manor. Never had she expected to be subjected to the evil curse age.

The pain from it was indescribable, worse than a thousand burning blisters popping simultaneously, worse than a hundred white-hot brands being dug into her skin. At least now it was over, though tremors still rippled through her body. She could hear muffled voices and a very familiar one screaming at someone to tell him something. There was a ringing in her ears, though, a tinny, piercing sound. And she could see the little bit of light from the tragic evening through her eyelids. It was already painful, so she couldn't imagine what it would be like when she opened them.

Crunching footsteps neared her and Hermione curled away, until she heard the comforting voice of Loki near her ears. He was only mumbling about how this wasn't supposed to happen, about how he was going to go and join the battle for real and not hold back. Gritting her teeth, Hermione opened her eyes. The brightness made her moan in pain as spots danced before her vision. A dark blob above her head slowly came into focus. Squinting, Hermione realised that it was Loki.

"Well, that's certainly one way to start a battle," she groaned, trying to get up. Her limbs were aching like mad. Loki gently held her shoulders and guided her to her feet. He chuckled bitterly at her quip.

"And it shouldn't be, you know that." Hermione grimaced, gripping her wand tight. She looked around.

"Where did they all go?" she asked. "You were fighting far more than me. How could they all just disappear?"

"I...got rid of them."

"How?" The question was simple but deadly. Loki knew that Hermione didn't like killing people, but he wasn't going to lie to her and say that they ran away. Most of them did, but the four he killed, she was going to know about it. He hesitated for a second, wondering what her reaction would be. Would she treat him with absolute disgust and revulsion, like some of the citizens of Asgard did, even when he tried to prove himself to them? Would she develop a quiet hatred that festered in her and the exploded outwards one day? Or would she be impartial, not really minding, not really approving? He was definitely hoping for the last one.

"Most of them ran away. The three you were fighting and the one that cursed you, I killed them." Hermione lowered her head, gazing at the ground, before raising it to look into Loki's eyes.

"I understand why you did it." Loki's face didn't betray his complete and utter astonishment.

"Good. No one can hurt you and get away with it." Hermione's eyes widened fractionally. That was certainly not what she was expecting to hear. She accepted Loki's decision. She wouldn't have done it herself, but in situations like this, sometimes things like that needed to be done. But to hear Loki say that with such conviction in his voice was a shock to the system. She knew they were close as friends, but that close? She never would have known if it weren't for Loki's words.

"Thank you," she whispered. Loki nodded, offering his arm.

"I know you're hurt, but we need to continue. We can't just stay here. They will be back and we need to take this opportunity to get to the centre of town."

"You're right." Hermione staggered forward, walking past the offer of leaning on Loki's arm. She didn't need it. She knew that if she really needed it, she would take it. The major aftereffects of the Cruciatus would set in later, hours later. They should be away from the battle by then, so she would worry about that then.

She broke into a jog, grimacing as another tremor ran through her body, tap-dancing on her bones. No, she couldn't think about that now.

"I think the main fight is up there," Loki said, gesturing to a large square where beams of light were being thrown around left and right. "I need to tell you, before we get in there. These people think that you're going to do nothing more than put them in Azkaban; they're operating under the assumption that no matter what they do, the worst place they can go to is a prison guarded by goblins. As well as that, they think that you won't hurt them. They're cowards, Hermione. Please, don't let their cowardice hurt you worse than it already has."

She stopped and turned to Loki. "I won't, you know that. These people are young, barely out of Hogwarts." She furiously wiped at the tears once again pooling in the corners of her eyes. "Don't let their stupidity cloud your judgement, either, Loki. Remember that these people are barely more than children."

"They tortured you!"

"I've been through worse," said Hermione. There was a finality in her voice. "I don't forgive them for what they've done, I never can. But remember their age, Loki. Please."

"You're so strange, you know that?" said Loki fondly. "You with your endless supply of mercy. I don't know where it comes from. How do you do it?" An explosion sounded from behind them, reducing a building to nothing more than dust.

"Now is not the time, Loki," Hermione said. "We'll discuss this later. For now, we need to find Harry and Ron. The Aurors will be here soon, I know it."

"They better be," Loki growled.

Together, they jogged towards the town centre. She immediately saw Harry and Ron, working tandem. Two parts of an impossible team, a symbiotic relationship where they almost knew what the other was thinking. Though their faces were stained with grime, blood ran in rivulets down their arms and faces from multitudes of cuts and gashes, their eyes still blazed with determination. There was no stopping them, none at all.

A wave of green magic rushed over the ground. It swept under the enemy's feet and in an instant they were all groaning on their backs. The second they saw him coming, they scrambled to their feet and took a wary step back, though they still kept their wands firmly trained on his lithe form. Words must have spread. Rather than engaging them, Loki erected another humongous shield, a giant dome encapsulating the four of them. It would keep the enemy at bay for the time being, hopefully until the Aurors arrived. He wanted to get to them, oh how he did. Loki could feel himself decimating them.

But Hermione's words echoed through his head.

So, he took an approach he'd never used before; the merciful one. If he could win without hurting them, he would. He realised that mundane, everyday spells would come in handy here, such as Hermione using a light spell to temporarily blind them. He made a mental note of using that in future battles. It was a good strategy. Surprise was a good strategy. Hitting the enemy with spells that weren't expected would force them to react in unorthodox ways. From what Loki had seen of their fighting, they were limited to a select few spells. This would give them a slight upper hand if they ever needed it. As skilled as Loki was, there were so many wizards on the other side of the shield that he wouldn't be able to hold them off for long.

He returned to where Hermione was catching up with Harry and Ron, who were gazing in awe at the green dome around them.

"It's good to see you too, Hermione, but why are you here?" asked Harry. "I thought you were working." Hermione scowled at him.

"I received your Patronus at the Burrow. The least I could do is help out." She crossed her arms, in an effort to look cross. It also doubled as a way to lock her arms, effectively stopping the trembling. The last thing she needed was Ron and Harry going all protective on her. They had a tendency to do that, what with the tragedy that happened when she was twenty-five. She blinked furiously. She didn't need to think of that, not now.

"Well," said Ron, running his hands through his shoulder length hair, "we need all the help we can get right now. Who's this bloke?" He roughly gestured at Loki, who was now examining the strength of his shield.

"Oh, that's Loki."

"Since when have you known a Loki?" asked an incredulous Harry.

"We met a few months ago, in a library. Then he moved in with me." Ron shot up.

"Are you two a thing?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. Hermione turned to glance at Loki. No. They weren't. He was one of her three best friends. Just the thought of being in a relationship with him made her shrivel a little bit.

"No. We're just friends."

"Well, your just friend has helped us a lot, by putting up that shield thing," said Harry. "I don't know how he did it. I only care that he did. We were almost overwhelmed. Molly did pass on the information to the Ministry, right?"

"I left before she did, but I know that she will have. Trust me on that."

"I can't believe you'd doubt Mum, Harry," said Ron.

"Just checking," Harry mumbled.

"Now is not the time to talk about this," interjected Loki, sauntering over. "Right now, we need to focus on beating those cowards out there." He threw a venomous glare over his shoulder. Thankfully, he didn't mention the torture Hermione endured. For that, she would be forever grateful. "I have a large arsenal of spells on me, including my daggers," they slipped down into his hands, "but I won't be enough on my own."

"Of course you won't, mate. What made you think you would be enough on your own in the first place?"

"I've fought a lot of battles. More than you could ever know." Hermione sighed as Loki's arrogant side began to show again. For a few minutes, he was gentle and caring. Then, he returned back to his usual personality. It wasn't that she didn't like it; quite the contrary. She found his charming arrogance intriguing. It was just exhausting at times.

"Loki, stop," she said softly. He sent a withering glare at her, as if to say, 'How dare you tell me what to do?' Of course, that was most likely what he was saying.

"Why should I," he challenged. He smirked in that infuriating way.

"Because we're in the middle of a battle," growled Hermione. "Now it not the time to brag about your past achievements, whether they happened or not. Now, we need to focus on holding off those despicable people until the Aurors arrive and take them in. So don't you _dare_ make this about yourself. Understand?"

"Of course," Loki replied coolly. There was that fighting spirit, finally reemerging. " Now, I need to go and see how long this shield is going to last."

"I'll come with you." She turned to Harry and Ron. "You two need to recuperate. Heal yourselves. I'm not going to let you run around with those cuts all over you. Take this time that Loki has given you." They nodded, mock saluting. Hermione shook her head. How they managed to be so positive in such a dire situation, she would never know. If she had to hazard a guess, the positivity and goofiness both of them gained after the war may have been the only way to get through the dark times all three of them faced. And they kept it. Hermione felt quite sorry for Ginny. She was married to a man who was, somehow, even goofier than Sirius Black.

It was strange. Inside the bubble, everything was silent. It was like ice. It muffled the sound of the screaming hordes until they were nothing more than a dull thrum. Hermione didn't know whether she preferred the silence or the screaming. She wasn't about to complain now.

They reached the edge of their safe area. The crowd on the other side snarled at them, almost feral. Hermione ignored them, as Loki cautiously ran his hand over the shield. "We have around twenty minutes before it falls. It's draining my magic quite significantly. When it falls, I will only be able to perform basic spells until my magic returns in full force. We will need to rely unpredictable mundane spells." He seemed appalled at the thought.

"Like the light spell I used earlier," murmured Hermione. "Can I?" She gestured to the shield. Loki shrugged, a foreign action for him, though he found himself doing it more often the more time he spent with Hermione.

"Feel free to. It will tingle a little, though. All normal side effects." Hermione tentatively reached forwards, hand still slightly shaking. She grimaced, then shook the thought out of her head. The second her hand touched the shield, a strange sensation rocketed through her. All of her hairs stood ramrod straight. It was like a slight charge of electricity was covering her body. She shivered as it swept over her body.

Then, a sense of exhaustion engulfed her. It didn't belong to her. She could feel her magic being steadily siphoned out of her body, while hers stayed inside her, swirling around. It was a sense of heightened awareness that was utterly foreign to her. And with it came a sense of desolation, of loneliness and bitterness and an unfathomably intense yearning for acceptance. She gasped as the feelings grew stronger.

Finally, she tore her fingers away from the shield. It sparked slightly, hissing and spitting. The foreign feelings were immediately washed away. The relief she felt was unparalleled. She clasped her hands together and decided not to touch the shield again, not if those strange feelings were the result.

Loki was standing completely still, hand glued to the shield. Suddenly, it began pulsing, golden lines stretching outwards from his hand. With a hiss, he recoiled, clasping his hands close to his chest.

"There is something wrong with that shield," he said.

"You felt it too, then?" Hermione asked, still shook up over the strange emotions.

"It felt like my magic was there, in my body. In reality, it is being torn away." He frowned, running his hands through his unruly hair. "This is not a usual occurrence. In fact, it has never happened before."

"I felt the opposite," Hermione offered. "Like my magic was being drained incredibly fast. There was also loss and a crushing desire to be accepted. It's almost like…" She trailed off, mind ticking faster than a clock on steroids. Loki had been touching the shield at the same time she was. Perhaps the shield let them feel each other's emotions?

Before she could think any further, the shrill cry of a child reached her ears. Her eyes snapped up and desperately surveyed the area, finding the location of the cry. An impossibly small girl was huddled into a corner with three dark figures approaching her like she was prey. Without thinking, she teleported over to the small girl, crouching protectively over her. Hermione cast a small shield of her own, a temporary reprieve.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. I'm here to help you now," she said soothingly. She ran a hand over the girl's cheek, gently cleaning away the tear marks. "What's your name?" The girl turned terrified brown eyes on Hermione, thick streams of tears still spilling out of them.

"N-nicky Sinclair." Her voice faltered. The three figures were pounding on the tiny shield, screaming profanities that made even Hermione gasp. The longer she spent around them, the less sympathy she felt for them. The fact that they would hurt a little girl made her sick. Really, they were no better than the Death Eaters.

"Well, Nicky, I'm Hermione Granger. I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" She reached down and engulfed the shaking child into her arms, rubbing light circles on her back. Her clothes were torn and her kinky, black hair was full of leaves and debris. "Those bad men won't be able to hurt you anymore, okay? Trust me."

"Do you know where my mum is?" Nicky whispered.

"I don't, sorry. I can help you find her, would you like that?" Nicky jerkily nodded, burrowing into Hermione's shoulders. Hermione frowned, though didn't let the poor little girl see. Nicky was seven at the most, tiny for her age. Hermione always wanted children, had been so close to having one of her own. But, some things were not to be. Hermione knew that one day she would have children, even if she needed to adopt. Having Nicky clinging onto her like she was a lifeline reminded her how fragile little girls and boys were. She swore that Nicky would find her way back to her parents.

To get out of the shield, she would have to teleport the two of them to a safe place, at the other end of the ruined street. Hermione breathed deeply. She wasn't sure how Nicky would react to it, but it had to be done. More and more people were surrounding their tiny bubble, shooting multitudes of spells onto it. She could hear it cracking under the pressure. Soon, if they didn't move, both of them would be dead.

The Aurors better show their faces soon, otherwise they would have her to deal with.

"Nicky, I'm going to get you out of here, but to do that, I'm going to have to do something that is going to feel a little strange. It won't hurt you. Is that alright?" Her voice was still soft. Nicky looked up at Hermione.

"Is it something magical?" Hermione smiled fondly. The girl was smart for her age.

"Yes it is. I'm one of the good guys though, so you can trust me. Are you ready?" Once again, Nicky nodded slightly, burrowing her head into Hermione's shoulder, clinging on, hands locked tight behind her neck. Closing her eyes, Hermione pictured the other end of the street inside her head. A slight breeze passed over them.

Eyes open, Hermione quickly ducked into an alley, out of sight. There was no one down here, they were all busy trying to get past Loki's shield There was only ten minutes left on that, though, so she would have to move fast, think of a way to fend them off while finding Nicky's parents. It would be hard, she knew that much. Almost impossible.

"Who's there?" A raspy, female voice sounded from the end of the alley. Hermione whipped around, though slowed her movements when Nicky whimpered into her shoulder. "I'll have you know, I'm armed." A figure swathed in shadows advanced towards them.

"I'm safe. I'm not with them," Hermione said quickly. "Who are you?"

"How should I know you're not with them?" The woman came into the little light they had. Her dark skin was riddle with cuts and bruises, brown eyes wide with fear and determination. Hermione immediately recognised that the woman had similar features to Nicky. They had the same nose and cheekbones. This woman must be her mother.

"I swear, I'm not," insisted Hermione. "Are you Nicky's mother?" The second she said that, the woman finally seemed to see the traumatised child clutching onto Hermione. She let out a strangled sob and rushed forward, prying Nicky off her Hermione and holding her tight in her arms. Nicky was letting out relieved cries of, 'Mummy, Mummy,' and the woman was gazing at Hermione with thankfulness all over her face.

"Thank you, thank you so much. You found my baby. You kept her alive." Tears were streaming down her scrunched up face and her lips were trembling. "What's your name? Please tell me. I need to know the name of my daughter's rescuer. I'm Wendy."

"Hermione," she whispered. The woman was so thankful, so full of gratitude that it reminded her of who she fought to protect. People like Nicky and Wendy, with their normal little muggle lives.

"Hermione. I can't thank you enough." Wendy glanced around, before retreating to the back of the alley, inside an alcove just big enough for three people. Gently, she placed Nicky down on the rough ground, before huddling in herself. Hermione followed them down the alley, which really wasn't a safe place for them to be. She contemplated taking them behind the shield. For seven minutes, they would be safe, until it fell and the hordes descended. Ultimately, Hermione decided that they would be safer here, hiding away.

"There is one more thing I can do for you," Hermione said, crouching down. "I can cast a notice-me-not charm on you, so if you are found, their eyes will go straight over you. Can I do that?"

Wendy's eyebrows furrowed, before nodding. "I may not be familiar with this magic, but I know that if you can help us, I will accept." Hermione nodded and waved her wand over the two of them. She could still see the, as she was the caster, though their image shimmered slightly. She turned to leave, to return to Harry, Ron and Loki, before Wendy spoke again.

"I just want to say thank you. I wish that there were more people like you in this world. And those bastards out there will find their downfall."

"Damn right they will," said Hermione, nodding firmly at Wendy and waving goodbye to a now slightly more happy Nicky, who shyly waved back. She walked down the alley, feeling a sense of fulfillment that she hasn't felt in a long time. At the end of the alley, she just stood, a strong silhouette staring out across the masses. At the other end of the street, the massive shield was beginning to crack. In a minute, it would be gone. There was nothing that she could do to prolong their advantage. Unless…

Her thoughts wandered back to when Loki was teaching her his version of the light spell. She remembered the triumph of seeing the small, warm ball of light materialise in her hands, a bright white in colour. She also remembered Loki's words of caution: "These spells can be used to a much larger degree if it is absolutely necessary. To do that, you must pull you magic out of your core and pour everything you have into it. For a few minutes afterwards, there will be slivers of your magic left, enough for the smallest of spells. The downside of doing this is that for several hours afterwards your magic will be drained. You will be unable to use it properly for weeks and the total recovery period is months. I highly advise you against using the strategy, though I doubt that you will be able to. There is a slight possibility, though it is very small."

That small possibility was enough.

Hermione created a small ball of light in her hands, tossing it from side to side. She knew that what she was about to do would hurt her. There was no question. But, it would give them an extra few minutes while the enemy regained their sight. It was the best option. Unfortunately, Loki, Harry and Ron would also lose their sight. Fortunately, as the caster of the spell, Hermione would be able to run over and reverse the effects of it with what little magic she had left.

She would have to time it for when the shield fell. Doing it at the same time would give them a few extra seconds in addition to the minutes that would already be tacked on. Hopefully, during that time, the Aurors would arrive and arrest the flailing idiots trying to regain their sight. She didn't know where they were. Things better be going alright on the other end.

Preparing herself, Hermione began the spell, slowly drawing her magic out so that light started shimmering around her body. Instantly, she heated up, the slight warmth of the small ball of light multiplying. She bit her lip to stop her screams from echoing around the town. Soon, enough energy was built up, enough to surround a large enough area, bathe it in stark white light.

Grimacing with the pain, Hermione began sprinting towards the horde, now very noticable. The shield was breaking now, only tiny chunks remaining.

"Hey, over here!" she shouted. Half the crowd turned around, eyes through the holes in their masks trained on her. Their wands raised. She heard a great crash as the shield failed, said a few reassuring words to herself, then let the light go.

* * *

Loki cursed Hermione and her childish impulses. He was trying his hardest to keep the shield up. It was failing, though. Slowly, bits of it were falling away, great cracks carving their way through it. It was a matter of seconds before it fell. Behind him, Harry and Ron were preparing for the fight of their lives, hugging each other, clearly a ritual that they did before battle in case they lost each other.

It was then that he saw a glowing figure sprinting towards the crowd. His eyes widened and before he could realise what was happening, the shield fell and a painfully bright light exploded outwards.

* * *

Hermione couldn't stop from screaming. She felt her magic being ripped from her body as the light exploded outwards. She could see through it, see every single person falling to the ground and clutching their heads, clawing at their eyes, screaming that they couldn't see, that it was too bright.

Now was the time. She continued sprinting towards her three friends, deftly dodging dangerous curses and hexes, left and right. They were being shot off randomly, in every direction. No one who was casting them could see anything.

While she was running, Hermione drew in the light that was clinging to her. It wouldn't do to blind the Harry, Ron and Loki. She skidded to a halt when she reached them. Loki was standing still, muttering curses about her in a language she didn't understand. Using the last of her magic, Hermione reversed the spell on all three of them.

A relieved gasp reached her ears, which were beginning to ring. Harry and Ron stood, running towards her, hugging her close. Hermione barely registered it, as he knees buckled out from under her. Her sight was bleary, the words of her friends muffled. Just before she passed out, Hermione heard a large number of whip-like cracks; the Aurors were here. Ron left, running towards them. She slowly followed his running, barely able to keep her eyes open. Two pairs of strong hands were supporting her.

As she watched Ron, a sickly yellow curse rocketed towards him. She tried to call out, to warn him, but too late.

The last thing she heard before the darkness claimed her were Ron's agonised screams.

* * *

 _Well, this is bit of a long one. It turned out far longer than I expected. The first draft of this was almost twenty-thousand words and a total drag to read. I was able to carve it down to this, though, which I am actually very proud of. I know it may seem disjointed in parts, but this is the best of four versions. I'm also not very good at writing action scenes, so to produce this is quite a victory. Not bad for being fifteen and having four days, eh?_

 _I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. I predict that this story is going to be going on for quite a while longer than expected. Yay._

 _Thank you for all the reviews, follows and favourites. I love all of you._

 _Edit: 22/11/2018: I wrote this chapter to the 10 hour loop version of Courtyard Apocolypse, from Deathly Hallows Part 2._

 _Sincerely  
Mariadoria_


	5. Mango's at Mungo's

Heimdall, the golden watcher, entered Odin's opulent throne room, large sword held firmly in his hands. His golden eyes roamed over the room, as they always did when he entered a space, before settling on the sitting King of Asgard. Odin held Gungnir close to him, head tilted slightly up, similar to the way Loki held himself. It was a quiet authority, one that was firm and tight. In contrast to Loki and Odin, Thor definitely held himself with more of a swagger. There was nothing subtle about it.

Heimdall knew exactly why he was here, too. It was to do with Loki and his continued absence from Asgard in the weeks leading up to Thor's coronation. Odin would want to know where his son was, and when he was planning to come back to Asgard.

He bowed deeply, sword planted in a groove in the floor. He rose again, before speaking. "You summoned me, Your Majesty."

Odin raised his head slightly. "Indeed. Now, down to business. Where exactly is my son Loki?"

"Midgard, specifically the small country called England." Odin's eyes widened an infinitesimal amount. Midgard was the last place he expected Loki to be. Why would he go there? Then again, Loki had always been a strange one, so he wasn't going to question his youngest son's antics. Best to just let him have his little adventures; they were nothing to the lifespan of an Asgardian. Usually, he would let Loki stay longer, as long as he wished, but with the coronation of Thor rapidly approaching, Loki was required back in the palace.

"I see," Odin said, eyebrow raised. "No matter. He knows that he is to be back here in three days, correct?" Heimdall made a noise of assent. "Good. If he doesn't call you by the third day, you will forcibly return him to Asgard. Understood? No matter what he is doing on Midgard. And if he tries to go back, don't let him use the Bifrost. I'm not letting that happen again."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Odin nodded his head, fingers tapping on the arm of his throne.

"You may now return to your post, Heimdall," said Odin bluntly. Heimdall bowed once again, before turning and striding back towards the Bifrost. There was a feeling of trepidation deep inside his gut though. He couldn't push back the feeling that Loki would have to be forcibly removed from Midgard. With the friendship he had developed with this Hermione Granger, it wouldn't be a surprise, not at all.

Sighing in resignation, Heimdall prepared himself for one hell of a fight when he returned Loki to Asgard.

* * *

After four days of sitting in the same seat, Loki was beginning to ache all over. It began as a small knot in the base of his back, before rapidly spreading all over his body. He couldn't move his neck without a painful twinge. It was pitiful, really, that the first thing to really harm him on Midgard was a lightly padded seat. He would much rather it be a rogue wizard, or maybe even Hermione cutting into him with her splendiferous vocabulary.

Anything other than a chair.

He slowly turned his aching neck to the right, turning his gaze down onto the softly slumbering figure of Hermione Granger. After using the spell, a stupid, unsafe move that realistically should have killed her, she fell into an incredibly deep sleep. The only thing he could think of deeper than it was the Odinsleep. He couldn't help his traitorous thoughts from badgering him about the terrible possibility she may never wake. He wasn't sure how he would feel then. Of course she would wake. She was Hermione.

Hermione never gave up, he knew that much.

Her hand, colder than usual, rested inside Loki's. With his thumb, he constantly rubbed gentle circle on the back of hers. It was a small motion that brought his inner turmoil just a little bit of calm.

He still couldn't believe that she thought overpowering an Asgardian spell was the best way to disable the enemies. Of course, it did work. Marvelously, in fact. All of their enemies inside a large area were temporarily blinded. The ones who were closest to Hermione when she cast the spell were actually permanently blinded, though Loki wasn't about to tell her that. When the Aurors arrived, it was to find all of their enemies unable to see, making it a ridiculously easy mass arrest. That still didn't excuse the fact that she didn't put her own safety first. He didn't know what would happen if he lost her.

When these thoughts first filtered through his mind, Loki found himself shocked. Never before in his long lifespan had he ever felt fear of losing someone. Previously, he laughed at anyone who was scared of losing someone close to them, taunting them about their uncontrollable weakness. Now that he was friends with Hermione, though, his entire opinion changed. It could still certainly be called a weakness, of sorts, but it was a weakness he was willing to have, if it meant he was able to keep his one true friend.

Now, after four days of sitting constantly by Hermione's bedside, the thoughts were normal. It was strange how quickly his life changed after he met this endearing woman in a Midgardian library. He wasn't about to question it, though.

Loud footsteps, along with a very familiar enraged voice, reached his ears. Loki had to stop himself from groaning. Almost every day, a middle aged woman, named Miranda O'Brian, who worked with Hermione, barged in and demanded that he get away from her. Apparently, anyone who she didn't know wasn't worthy of her 'protege's' attention. The funny thing was, Hermione hadn't once mentioned this woman. Loki would never understand why she thought she was in charge of who was able to visit Hermione.

So, he prepared himself for the daily verbal spar, which always ended with O'Brian storming out in a huff, muttering obscenities under her breath.

The curtains were torn back, the metal rings clinking together. O'Brian, with her lank, greying hair and sharp nose, burst in on him. Next to her was a frantic nurse, desperately trying to calm the furious woman down, though to no avail.

"You need to stop following me, girl," O'Brian sneered at the nurse, who looked to be on the verge of tears. Loki couldn't help but feel slightly sorry for her, another foreign feeling. "I am allowed to be up here." The nurse made to make a reply. Unfortunately, O'Brian was too quick, though. She clamped her hand down over the nurse's mouth, preventing anything more than a muffled squeak from worming past. "Not another word from you."

"Good to see you again, Miranda," said Loki, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I see that today you've decided to take your frustrations out on this lovely woman here." He smiled charmingly at the muffled nurse. "Let her go. You're doing no one any good." He didn't move from his seat, Hermione's hand still clasped in his own.

O'Brian removed her hand from the traumatised nurse's face. The nurse promptly fled. Loki watched with dull fascination as she stalked towards him, sticking an accusing finger right up in his face. He didn't bat an eye. He knew that her type of people, close minded nitwits who thrived off the misery of others, wanted a reaction. He wasn't going to give her one. Not a chance.

"You," she growled, "need to leave."

"Any new arguments you've come up with since last time would be appreciated. I'm not going to listen to the same empty threats all over again." His voice was bored. Loki wanted nothing more for this annoying gnat to vacate his presence. He found over the past few days that being totally uninterested in her tirade was a very effective way to rid himself of her.

"I don't even know you. How am I supposed to know that you know her? You could just be trying to exploit her for her fame." O'Brian's cheeks were becoming an ugly shade of puce. She was beginning to match her jacket.

Loki couldn't help a dry chuckle. "If there is anyone who is trying to exploit her for her fame, it's you."

"Now, both of us know that isn't true."

This time, Loki reacted.

He abruptly stood. Hermione's cold hand fell out of his own. With threatening steps, he strode towards her, forcing her back towards the curtain that she yanked open earlier. "Now that, that is where I draw the line." His voice was low and dangerous. The voice of someone who was in charge. "Don't you dare try and tell me that I am exploiting my closest friend. You know very well it isn't true. Now, before I do something I regret, get out." The last word was hissed. O'Brian seemed stumped for a minute before, smirking.

"Hermione doesn't make friends with people like you, _Loki_ ," she sneered. Her face was proud, like she was finally holding the trump card in her hands.

"Actually," came a soft voice from behind them, "I do make friends with people like Loki, Miranda." Loki wheeled around and saw a feeble Hermione hauling herself up to a sitting position, eyes still pressed shut. She was shaking slightly. A tidal wave of relief rushed through Loki. She was awake, at last. "Please, leave."

"But, Hermione," spluttered O'Brian.

" _Now._ "

Muttering under her breath, O'Brian stomped out of the small, curtained area, not even bothering to shut the curtain on her way out. With a small flick of his wrist, Loki made them snap shut. He then rushed back to his seat, swiveling it around so he faced Hermione.

"Thank Odin you're awake," he said. "I thought you were going to slumber forever."

"Oh, you know me," smiled Hermione. "Never one to give up." At that moment, though, her limbs did give up on her. She fell back down into a lying position, shaking slightly. Loki knew that she was feeling the terrifying effects of her magic being completely absent from her body. A core piece of her was missing.

"Take it easy, now. You've got plenty of time, and your friends are willing to wait for you. Harry's visiting later today, actually." At the mention of her friends, Hermione's eyes suddenly opened, impossibly wide. She groaned at the pain of the light attacking her eyes, though refused to screw them shut again. She turned towards Loki, urgency colouring her voice.

"Tell me that Ron is okay. Please, tell me he is alright." Loki glanced down at her, about to reply. He couldn't, though, when he saw her eyes. Instead of her warm, brown colour, they now shone a brilliant silver, brighter than even the blades of his daggers. Logically, Loki knew that it was a side effect of the Asgardian magic being used by a Midgardian. It still didn't stop him from being shocked, though. It completely changed the way she looked.

"Your eyes, Hermione."

"I don't care what's happened to my eyes, Loki. I know something has, I can feel it." Her voice turned to steel. "Tell me. Is Ron okay?" Loki guiltily glanced down at his feet.

"It isn't my place to tell you."

"Oh, it isn't your place, is it?" scoffed Hermione, desperately trying to support her body with quaking limbs. "Well if it isn't your place, then you better bloody well take me to see him, right now." Clumsily, she tore the sheets out from over her legs and tried to get out of the bed. Sighing, Loki reached down and picked Hermione up. She squeaked in an undignified manner, weakly clasping her hands around Loki's neck. He could see her scowling at him for picking her up. There was no way he was letting her walk anywhere with her limbs not even strong enough to support her standing up. He ignored her annoyed grumbles, chuckling slightly.

"You're not walking anywhere in that state."

"I didn't know you were such a mother hen, Loki." He dourly scowled at her. There was that acerbic wit he had missed.

Being careful to walk in such a way that Hermione wouldn't fall and his aching limbs wouldn't be agonised even further, he slowly made his way down the wing of the infirmary. Ron was being kept in a ward three down from Hermione's. He didn't know why she wasn't placed with him. Maybe is was because of the differences in their injuries? He didn't know.

"Why can't you tell me?" queried Hermione quietly. Even though she tried to hide it, Loki could hear the fear in her voice. He himself wasn't sure exactly what had happened to Ron. All he knew was that it was bad. Not totally detrimental, but bad.

"It's just best for you to find out from someone else. Someone closer to Ron."

"You're acting strange." It was a statement, not a question.

"Well, that does tend to happen when your closest friend stupidly decides to use a spell in the wrong way and then falls into a sleep for four days. Ah, here we are." Hermione, with her strange new silver eyes, didn't seem to quite digest the fact that she was out for four days. She didn't say anything about it though.

Awkwardly, Loki tried to pry the door open. Hermione's entire body was in the way, though. She hopped down out of his arms, latching onto his elbow and leaning heavily on him. He sent a glance of disapproval at her, though reached for the door handle. It swung open and they entered the room.

There was only one bed in the small ward. Only Mrs. Weasley was sitting by his bedside, the rest of the usual entourage, including Ron's wife and children, otherwise occupied. Loki knew they would be visiting soon, though. From what little he knew of the Weasleys, family was of utmost importance to them. The small table next to the bed where Ron was lying was piled high with cards and various types of sweets, just like Hermione's table. A symbol of goodwill, he had learned when the first one was delivered to Hermione and the person dropping it off had sensed his total bewilderment. It didn't help that the ethereal, wispy woman with impossibly long hair gave Hermione a _mango_ of all things.

In the middle of the bed, Ron's lanky figure was covered by white sheets. A black blindfold was wrapped around his face and Loki could just make out the white tips of bandages peeking out from under his shirt. He must be worse than he initially realised. Good thing he wasn't the one to tell Hermione about what happened to him. He wasn't sure how she would react, though from what he knew of her, she would either go into complete denial or start clucking like a chicken and faint. He wasn't sure which one her would prefer to happen to her, honestly.

* * *

Hermione, leaning on Loki for support, felt a pang of fear rocket through her. Ahead, Ron was lying motionless on a bed, chest rising and falling steadily. From what she could see, and she could see remarkably well, he was awake, though not doing well. She couldn't find a reason for the blindfold to be there, though. Had something happened to his eyes? Was there a spell that caught him in his face? What could it possibly be?

"Hermione, dear," said Mrs. Weasley warmly, welcoming her back. She seemed happy. Well, as happy as you could be when your son is teetering on the border of life and death in front of your very eyes. Hermione didn't know how she knew this. It was just an instinctive feeling.

"Molly," she said softly. She could barely make herself say something else. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, like a fat raincloud was hovering over everyone's heads, just waiting for the opportunity to burst and start pouring down on them.

Loki conjured a seat for her, not saying anything. He really was acting strangely. Well, more strange than he already usually was. Gratefully, she sat down in it, giving her trembling limbs a much needed break.

A healer somberly walked into the room, face set in a frown. Mrs. Weasley rushed over to him, wringing her hands on her skirt.

"Healer Bradbury, please tell me there is good news," Mrs. Weasley begged. It was a stark contrast to her previously sunny demeanour. Hermione gripped the thin arms of the chair tighter. Fear began to rise in her stomach. Just what had happened to Ron?

Healer Bradbury sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, I can't give you that." Everyone in the ward wilted, including Ron, who up until that point remained silent.

"Bugger."

"Bugger indeed, Mr. Weasley," said Healer Bradbury. "I'm so sorry, we have tried everything we can to save it."

"I believe you," said Ron, his voice hitching slightly. "Well, I guess that I'm just going to have to get used to living like this, now." Healer Bradbury slowly walked forward, reaching down and removing the blindfold from Ron's face. Underneath it, his eyes were shut.

"What can't you save?" Hermione asked desperately. "What happened?" Despite Loki's firm hand on her shoulder, she stood and hastily staggered over to Ron's bedside. He turned his head towards her, eyebrows furrowed.

Then he opened his eyes.

Instead of his usual brilliant, electric blue eyes, milky pupils gazed blankly back at her. Hermione gasped, tears beginning to form in her own eyes. This couldn't be happening. Not here, not now. His irises were grey and lifeless, seeing nothing. Nothing at all. It was gone. Just...gone.

"Your sight. They couldn't save your sight." Numbness began to creep over her. She knew how this had happened. She knew that it was her own doing that caused Ron to go blind.

Before her thoughts could spiral out of control, Ron's hand shot forwards and latched onto her wrist with surprising accuracy.

"And it isn't your fault."

She couldn't bring herself to look at the blank eyes of her best friend, so she looked at the wall. Sadly, Ron seemed to sense this, deflating a little bit. His grip slackened just slightly. Inside, Hermione knew that she couldn't have known she would completely blind Ron. She even performed the counter spell, so she couldn't know how it came to be. Didn't know why it had to happen. Regret began to consume her, eating away at her resolve impossibly quickly.

"Ron," she pleaded. "I cast the spell. I caused you to lose your sight."

"No, you reversed the spell. It may have been a side effect of this nasty one here." Wincing, Ron gestured at his bandaged torso. His faced screwed up in pain. "We're still trying to figure out what caused it."

Hermione scowled at him, a watery smile dancing on her lips. Ever since the war, Ron had become such a forgiving person. Sure, there was still the occasional streak of jealousy, just like every person was prone to. But overall, there was a dramatic shift in his attitude. As he had told her while they were still a couple, 'There are more important things than getting jealous over petty differences.' It was such a stark contrast to how he was during their first few years at Hogwarts.

And now, here he was, blinded for the rest of his life, telling her that he would be okay. That is wasn't her fault. How could he be strong enough to do that? Normally, people would become bitter, blaming another person. But he wasn't. That alone was incredible.

A lone tear escaped down her cheek, lips trembling. No matter what Ron said, she brought this upon him. She was the reason his life was forever changed, for the worse. She was the reason he would never see light again. Never see the face of his little girl, with her tiny little gap tooth. He would never know what his baby son would grow up to look like. He would never see their cheeky, gorgeous, innocent smiles ever again. He would never gaze upon the face of his wife again, with her dark brown eyes and smattering of freckles.

"There is no other explanation, Ron. It was me. You know that. My reversal spell must not have been strong enough. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." She began sobbing, still unable to look at Ron's sightless eyes. The crisp white sheets of the hospital bed were clenched tight in her hands, which were clenching and unclenching. Without realising it, she was almost bent over double, body heaving with her crying.

"Hermione," said Loki gently, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It isn't your fault. You can't go around blaming yourself for something that is out of your control." She turned bloodshot silver eyes towards him, eyelashes clumped together with tears. Her head was shaking side to side in denial.

"It was in my control, Loki. I..." Her sorrow became to great that she couldn't speak, just sit in the chair, with her head in her hands, terrifying thoughts running through her head.

"'Mione, I may not know Loki well, but he is telling the truth." Ron's voice was hoarse with disuse. Hermione didn't know how she hadn't noticed it before. "If you're not going to listen to me, at least listen to him. Please, don't feel pity for me. I'm still alive. Isn't that enough?"

"It shouldn't have to be 'just enough.' You should be able to see. What about your family?"

"I'll still have them. Just because I can't see them doesn't mean our relationship will get any weaker." He smiled at the thought of his wife, Chloe, and his children, Maria and Aaron. "If anything, our bond with become stronger." Ron shifted, grimacing in pain. "Look, Hermione, you can do two things. You can wallow and let yourself be consumed by what you think is failure, or you can think about how many lives you saved with that one trick you had up your sleeve. Thanks to you, the Aurors were able to get in, arrest almost every Gardner there and get a major lead on their leader."

Hermione faltered. "Gardners?"

"Yeah, that's what they're calling themselves. Apparently, they want to 'garden a better future' for the rest of the world. Bit of a lame name, isn't it?"

"You could say that," muttered Loki. Hermione wiped her eyes, reigning in her weeping. Maybe it was better to look at the positive side of things.

"And, the healers are going to teach me a way to 'see' with my magic," added Ron. "Apparently, once I learn it, I'll be able to see outlines of people and things, so I won't be totally helpless. They also said that if I master it completely, I will be able to go back to work as an Auror. How great is that?"

Hermione choked in both disbelief and relief. He wouldn't be totally blind. He would still see, in a way. Now that he mentioned it, she remembered reading about the process somewhere, about how a few years ago it was perfected and put into use for people who were newly blinded. Ron would still be able to see, in a way. Just differently from everyone else. The guilt, as it was still stifling her, began to slowly disappate, leaving only a large puddle where there was previously a lake.

Before she could say anything more, though, her limbs began trembling again, as a state of extreme tiredness overtook her. Just before she slumped back in her chair, unconscious, she saw Ron smiling in her general direction and giving a playful thumbs up. Then sleep claimed her as its own and she fell into a blissful, guiltless sleep.

* * *

Three days later, Hermione and Loki sat side by side on an old, peeling park bench. Above them, the leaves of a spring oak whispered slightly, a small breeze weaving its way through. The light from the sun, filtering through the oak, was clean and dappled, casting interesting shadows over their faces. The bench was on the edge of a field, a gravel path separating the two.

Two days ago, Hermione was cleared to go home from St. Mungo's, as long as she took great care and didn't over exert herself. She was forbidden from using magic for three weeks, which honestly wasn't a problem for her. She didn't use it for every little task and difficulty like some members of the Wizarding community. This was partly due to her upbringing in a Muggle household and partly due to the fact that she didn't want to learn to rely on her magic. If there was one thing that the Second Wizarding War taught her, it was that you couldn't rely on just your magic. If you had another tool or ability up your sleeve, it gave you a great advantage that may just win you the battle.

Loki, the idiot that he was, acted horrified at the very concept of going without magic for a couple of weeks. On their way out of St. Mungo's, Hermione lightly leaning on him for support, he kept whinging and whining, never ceasing. He only stopped when Hermione threatened to turn him into a frog and give him to a high school to dissect, laughing at her threat.

With time to dwell on what happened to Ron, Hermione came to the conclusion that even though she was responsible for it, there was no denying that, the results of the spell were out of her control. No matter what Ron and the Healers of St. Mungos said, she knew it was her doing that blinded Ron, though unintentionally. After letting the light spell loose, her magic was frayed, split down the middle and chopped into little cubes, before being smashed until there was practically nothing left. To even be able to reverse the spells was a miracle in itself. And she passed out before being able to reverse the spell fully on Ron, as she'd done with Loki and Harry.

She was still coming to peace with her actions. It would take a long time to fully settle with it, to not feel guilt when she thought of Ron and the battle of Totnes. After all her thoughts, the dark feelings that settled in her gut fled, leaving her feeling lighter than the day she found out.

So, as per Ron's request when she last saw him, she was focusing on getting herself better, not wallowing in a lake of self inflicted guilt. At first, she wanted to stay home and return to work on her assignment for work, which was nearly finished. She didn't even make it to her desk. The second she even mentioned it, Loki had picked her up and plopped her unceremoniously down on the couch, stating that until she was fully better, she wouldn't even be looking at the assignment. According to him, she didn't need the extra stress added to her recovery. So, she was left playing chess, reading recreationally and failing miserably at trying to make a souffle.

Another thing she was trying to come to terms with was the strange silver colour of her eyes. Loki had explained it as a side effect of her using the light spell. She learned that with his brand of magic, if you over powered a spell, it could alter your physical appearance. It seemed logical enough, but the brightness of them was almost disconcerting. It was like they were almost glowing. It wouldn't surprise her if they started emitting light, though she knew they wouldn't do that. Hermione had to admit, though, they did look very exotic, and suited her in a strange way. All in all, it could be a lot worse than her eyes changing colour.

After two days in her flat, she could slowly feel herself going stir crazy, so Loki suggested an outing to the park where she thought he was a reporter. Hermione had jumped at the idea.

Now, they were just sitting in a comfortable silence, basking in the relative peace. Well, as peaceful as the park could be with a soccer team full of seven year old tearing up the field in front of them, with a middle aged coach desperately trying to wrangle them in. It was an amusing sight, one that kept Loki occupied for a small amount of time, before his guilty conscience wrestled its way to the forefront of his mind, reminding him of what was going to happen today.

Today was the last day he was going to be spending on Midgard for a long while. Very soon, the Bifrost would beam down and engulf him, transporting him back to Asgard whether he liked it or not. He wasn't about to call Heimdall, as he wanted to get every last second that he could with Hermione. If it came to a tearful goodbye, then that would leave him devastated, no matter how little he liked the prospect of that feeling. Loki was fast coming to realise that he didn't like the idea of goodbye. Not one bit.

Loki knew that after Thor's coronation and the ensuing celebrations, he would be returning to Midgard. As much as it pained him to admit it, Hermione's lifespan was nothing compared to him. Odin wouldn't mind if he spent the better part of a century down on Midgard with Hermione. Those years would be nothing but a blip in the radar for his lifespan. For a while, he had entertained the idea of revealing his true identity to her and asking her if she would like to eat the Apple of Idunn, to join the ranks of the Asgardians. His thoughts were stopped short by one blaring barrier: Odin Borson, King of Asgard, who would never let a mortal step foot in their realm. He also realised that Hermione's life on Midgard meant too much to her. He decided that he was going to enjoy his time with her on Midgard and leave it at that.

"You know, I've never said thank you," Hermione said suddenly.

Loki arched an eyebrow, shifting to face her slightly. "Whatever for?" He was slightly puzzled at her outburst, if it could even be counted as that.

Hermione made a dismissive hand gesture. "Not much. Just, you know, being a friend. Do you know how hard it is to make friends when everyone knows your name and wants a piece of your fame? It's extremely difficult."

"Don't I know it," Loki muttered under his breath, so low Hermione didn't hear him. Raising the volume, he said, "Well, you were so easy to make friends with. How could I not?"

"Oh, you're such a sap." Hermione playfully hit his shoulder.

"I beg to differ, Miss Granger."

"So we're going with last names, now? You're so lucky I don't know yours, because if I did, you would be losing this battle." She crossed her arms and turned her face away from Loki with faux arrogance. He sniggered slightly. She would never fail to amuse him.

"I highly doubt that." Hermione sharply snapped her head around, glaring at him. He chuckled, then quickly shielded himself with his arms as Hermione began a frenzied slap attack against him.

Suddenly, just as Loki was about to launch a counterattack, rainbow lights shot down to the surface of the Earth and engulfed Loki, along with Hermione. Instantly, he was being sucked upwards, towards the Bifrost of Asgard. Every time he traveled through the Bifrost, it made him feel like he was free falling in reverse. But Loki wasn't focusing on that.

Hermione, flying next to him, was screaming in shock, eyes as wide as they could go. He couldn't blame her, honestly. He didn't know what he could do to calm her down. Soon, they would land on Asgard, where Hermione would immediately be sent back to Midgard, no matter what. Fury began to overtake him. Who did Heimdall think he was, transporting Hermione to Asgard as well? Couldn't he have waited for a time where he was alone to activate the Bifrost? No, apparently he couldn't.

Loki was unceremoniously spat out onto the floor of the Bifrost sphere, too occupied with his own thoughts to be bothered landing. Next to him, Hermione landed with a dull thump, her screaming being cut off as she realised she wasn't 'flying' anymore. Loki saw her look up and lock her gaze on the golden palace of Asgard, mouth falling open with complete shock, along with a healthy dose of disbelief.

"What the He―" The Bifrost activated again, whirring back to life as the rainbow lights took Hermione back to Midgard.

And just like that, she was gone.

Loki felt a lone tear escape his left eye as he stared at the spot where she was previously lying, before hauling himself to his feet and whirling around to meet Heimdall face to face. Rage took over his every feature, as hurt stampeded through him, accompanied by an aching sensation of _loss,_ unfamiliar to anything Loki had ever felt before. Oh, he'd known that it was going to 'hurt like a bitch' as Midgardians said, but never had he anticipated how it would feel. How much it would consume him.

And without saying anything, knowing that Heimdall was ordered to do as he did by none other than Odin, Loki stormed past the golden watcher and towards the gleaming golden palace of Asgard. Odin would never know what was coming to him.

* * *

Hermione slammed back into the grassy ground of the park in the middle of London, still screaming from shock. When she noticed she was no longer in the middle of an impossibly bright tunnel, she cut it off. Strangely enough, the ground around her was etched with scorching runes, trails of smoke twisting off into the bright sky. She couldn't believe what had just happened. What she just realised.

The rainbow tunnel she had just been in could be nothing other than the Bifrost. In all mythology, there was nothing like it, nothing for it to be compared to. And if that was the Bifrost, then the magnificent golden structure she'd just seen was the legendary palace of Asgard. Without making too many leaps of logic, Hermione also realised that one of her three closest friends, was a prince of Asgard.

Loki was...the actual Loki.

Laughing bitterly in disbelief, Hermione staggered to her feet and collapsed on the park bench where she was sitting previously. Her thoughts were a complete jumbled mess. But, through all of it, one thing was clear.

Hermione was going to somehow find her way back to Asgard.

And they better better be ready for her.

* * *

 _Sorry for the delay in getting this out, exams are a bitch. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. I feel as though the quality peters off towards the end a bit, though I feel like it's still a good read. I may go back and flesh it out later. I'm still satisfied with it. I'm aiming to update on Fridays. If you're in the Northern Hemisphere, it will be a Thursday._

 _I wrote this chapter to Forbidden Friendship, from the How To Train Your Dragon soundtrack. Go listen, it's great._

 _Edit 23/11/2018: Changed the end of the chapter to have more description, also overhauled the reaction of Hermione to Ron's blindness. I have learned my lesson about posting a chapter at 2: 27 am. Never again (I say as I update this at 3:46 am the next day. I really need to sort out my sleep schedule)._

 _Sincerely,  
An exhausted Mariadoria._


	6. Interlude One: The Passage of Time

A week after finding out the truth about Loki, Hermione walked into the office of her boss, Elise Reinink. Without a word, she placed the heavy assignment down on the large, carved desk. It was a large file, filled with what she now knew was incredibly accurate information about Norse Mythology, direct from the source. The praise came instantly.

"Hermione, this is more than I could ever have imagined. You have done incredibly good work. I look forward to seeing where you go next." The smile that covered her face was so pleased that Hermione felt a small pang of guilt in her stomach. She pushed it away and swallowed.

"Actually, I have news. It's a bit unfortunate for you, though." Elise gave Hermione a puzzled look, before gesturing for Hermione to sit down in the overstuffed chair opposite her desk. If there was one thing that Elise was good at, it was making people feel comfortable and welcomed. Hermione sat down and nervously tugged on a strand of hair, loose from her practical braid.

"Explain."

"Well, I have this for you." Hermione delved into her small, beaded bag, an upgraded version of the one that she used during their time on the run, during the war. She pulled out a binder folder with a single piece of paper inside it. Elise took it out of her hands.

"What, exactly, is this?" Her tone was going slightly frosty, the smile slipping from her face as she read the contents of the letter. "You're resigning from this department?"

"Yes. I have had an offer from another department, to work for them. I've decided to take them up on it." Hermione clasped her hands in her lap. She braced for the inevitable firestorm coming her way. Elise was very welcoming, but had one hell of a temper on her.

"I don't accept."

"You're going to have to. I start work there in two hours."

"Tell them that you're not going." Elise dropped the letter of resignation onto her desk. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hermione, your research has helped our department so much. We've made leaps and bounds ever since you came on. You think that I'm just going to let you change departments at the drop of a hat?"

Hermione sighed. "Look, Elise, I love working here. But, the department that I'm transferring to, they can help me in my personal research more than the people here can. It's as simple as that." She stood to leave. "I have enjoyed my time here, but all things must come to an end."

"Alright, I can see you're not budging." Elise was resigned, steepling her fingers in a manner reminiscent of Dumbledore. "If I may ask, what department are you transferring to? It's not listed on your letter."

Hermione looked at Elise over her shoulder, smirking.

"The Department of Mysteries."

* * *

"Granger. Welcome to your first day on the job. You specified that you would finally come and work for us on the condition that you can focus on the area of Norse Mythology. May I ask why?"

Hermione smiled. "I believe that there is sufficient evidence suggesting that Asgard may be real. I would like to work on a device similar to the Bifrost and find a way there. Surely, there's enough mystery in that to warrant a project."

Ziegler, the tall, heavy set woman in front of her, raised her head. "What has lead you to these beliefs?"

"Months and months of research, ma'am," said Hermione. As strange as the people in the Department of Mysteries were, no matter how willing they were to believe in the odd and unlikely, Hermione doubted that they would believe her story of seeing Asgard.

"Alright. Everyone has an ambition and passion. I accept yours. Now, you won't be working on it all the time, understand?" Hermione nodded. Inside, though, she was cheering. Just to have access to the resources of the Department of Mysteries was a step forward in finding Loki and Asgard. "You will be assigned tasks to do, until you've proven yourself. Then, you can create your own chamber. We aren't going to give you special treatment, understood?"

Hermione grinned. "Understood, ma'am."

"Good. Your work robes are in that room over there. Jenkins over there will take you to your first job." Hermione followed Jenkins. "Oh, and Granger." Hermione turned. "If you tell anyone anything about this job, and I mean anyone, we will know. You can tell people you are an Unspeakable, but any details, and you're out."

* * *

"So what's this I've heard about you changing jobs, Hermione?" asked Ron, clutching a mug of tea and softly blowing the steam away. "It's all over the Ministry, you know."

"Of course it is," Hermione groaned. "Let me guess, Elise did it?"

"Correctamundo!" said Harry, leaning back in his chair. He then grimaced slightly. "That's a strange word. Don't think I'll ever use that again. Anyway, what Department are you in now?"

"The Department of Mysteries," Hermione said nonchalantly. Harry nearly fell out of his chair and Ron spat out his mouthful of tea.

"You're an Unspeakable?" Ron was beyond shocked, it seemed. Hermione snorted.

"Yes, I am."

"Well, you learn something new everyday," added Harry. Hermione nodded.

* * *

Hermione, black robes swirling dramatically around her, entered the Death Chamber. She couldn't suppress a shiver. The last time she was in this room was during the battle in her fifth year. This was where Sirius was murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange.

With large amounts of trepidation, Hermione made her way down the crumbling stone steps. The underground room was chilly, like an invisible spirit was nipping at her ankles. There was barely any light; instead, Hermione had to employ a _Lumos_ charm. As she reached the base of the amphitheatre, she couldn't help but hear whispers. The words were indistinguishable.

For six months, she had been working in the Department of Mysteries. It was one of the best decisions she'd ever made. The leaps and bounds she's made towards making a portal similar to the Bifrost were massive. After just two months working there, she was granted permission from Ziegler to create her own chamber, which she named the Idunn Chamber. To her, it was the only one that sounded fairly interesting. The Asgard Chamber just didn't have the same ring to it.

Cautiously, Hermione reached out a hand to touch the stone of the arch. She needed to research the arch in order to further her own portal, which had recently hit a rather large snag. See, Hermione knew how to make a portal and have it take her place, that was no problem at all. It was making it take her to an unknown place that was the problem. For weeks, she agonised over the specifics of the portal, until the Death Chamber came up in conversation.

It had take a lot of wheedling, but eventually she was granted permission to study the arch for a day. Best believe she was going to make the most of it.

Hermione's hand connected with the arch and the hairs on her back stood on end. She gasped as images began to flash before her eyes, memories of those long deceased. With a hiss, she removed her hand and frantically shook it. Touching it was definitely out of the question.

The memories began filtering out of her mind, but not before she latched onto a specific one. Her eyes widened as she began to create a theory about using a piece of obscure magic that was outlined in one of the memories. To perform it, she would need to do extensive research.

Nothing that she was a stranger to.

So, with a manic grin forming, Hermione sprinted out of the Death Chamber and into the Idunn Chamber, breezing past a very disgruntled looking Jenkins, who just shook his head and continued his work refurbishing the Time Chamber.

* * *

"Granger." The stern voice of Ziegler echoed through the Idunn Chamber. Hermione jerked upwards, reluctantly ripping her attention away from the fascinating book on Memory Magic. Honestly, taking up the job as an Unspeakable was the best decision she'd ever made, she was sure of that now.

"Yes, ma'am?" Hermione stood, pushing the chair under her small desk. She didn't care for huge ones. Instead, bookshelves lined the wall of her small chamber. Behind her, a portal, made of magically infused stone, swirled, making a strange whooshing noise.

"There is someone who would like to talk to you." The man next to Ziegler stepped forward. Hermione gulped when she recognised the Minister of Magic, Atlas Valerius.

"Yes, Miss Granger," Valerius said brusquely, not giving Hermione a chance to greet him. "Now, I hear you're working on trying to find a way to Asgard, if it's real?"

"That is correct." Hermione's heart was beating a million miles a minute.

"I would like to fund your project."

"What? Come again?"

"I said, Miss Granger, that I would like to fund your project. If it is successful and Asgard is actually real, the alliance that could be created would be invaluable. I trust that you're going to work hard on it?"

"I already am."

"Good, good. Now, I trust that you will use the money well?"

"You can bet on it."

* * *

The portal in front of Hermione was sucking everything close to it in, an incredibly dangerous force. So far, most of her duplicated books had been lost to it, which was a sore spot, but there was no time to think about that now. The Portal was unstable and dangerous. If she didn't shut it down soon, the entire Idunn Chamber would be lost to it. Not to mention that Hermione would be sucked through it and transported to who knows where.

Hermione slid across the floor, gritting her teeth. The Portal's power was increasing. To turn it off, she would have to channel her magic into a specific rune carved on the back of the stone frame. Unfortunately, there was no way to get past it.

With a squeak, Hermione's feet left the ground. She whizzed towards the portal and only saved herself from being sucked through it by clawing the sides. Her head went though it, though. While she was desperately scrabbling for the rune on the back of the Portal, she saw what looked like an endless pile of trash.

Her hand found the rune and Hermione fell backwards as the Portal deactivated, crashing down into the ground. She groaned, rubbing her head. She definitely was nowhere close to Asgard. At least she knew that the endless trash pile wasn't Earth, judging by the otherwordly spaceships littered over the junkyard. A spark of excitement rocketed through her. There was actually another world out there. And she had seen it!

After a year, she was getting somewhere, finally. Hermione began smiling and dusted herself off. She was getting there. One day, she would find Asgard. The Memory Magic she infused into the portal was working, it seemed.

Fantastic.

* * *

"Sir, I think you're going to want to see this."

Director Nicholas Fury of SHIELD marched over to the computer screen the terrified agent was gesturing at. He glared down at the screen. He really didn't have time for this, not when the Earth was being invaded by a crazy Asgardian hellbent on ruling the planet.

His attitude changed immediately when he saw the surveillance video.

On the screen was a normal looking department store. People were milling around, children were tugging on their mother's hands. And, in the men's clothing section, a laughing Loki, carrying a large pile of black jeans and green shirts. Next to him was a woman with frizzy hair, in her late twenties to early thirties. There was no question over whether it was the Asgardian or not; they were one and the same.

But that begged the question: Why was Loki in a department store, with a woman, buying _jeans?_ The image was so absurd that it took Fury a second to wrap his head around it.

"Run a face recognition on the woman."The agent nodded, doing as Fury said. Immediately, a result popped up. The screen read, 'Hermione Jean Granger, born 19 September 1979.' Fury projected the image up on a large screen, so everyone in the large command room could see her face. He walked up to the front, already having everyone's attention.

"This woman, Hermione Jean Granger, was seen on surveillance footage with Loki Odinson, last year. I need you to find her and bring her in for questioning, immediately." The room filled with suspicious murmurs. Fury himself was full of questions. Just who was this mysterious woman who was in league with Loki?

Soon, he would know.

And she would regret ever meeting Loki.

* * *

 _Hey, how are you? I tried to fit this into one chapter, but that just wasn't working. It was all over the place, all disjointed and ugly. You could say that it was bit of a beast. So, I decided to create a little interlude, called 'The Passage of Time.' I quite like the idea of a little interlude every five chapters or so. Please, tell me what you think of the idea. Main updates are still on a Friday, or Thursday if you're in the Northern Hemisphere._

 _Thanks for all reviews, favourites and follows._

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria_


	7. All She Wanted Was A Blanket

Hermione hummed under her breath as she cheerily walked down the street. She was wearing a large, wool coat, her hands shoved into the pockets. A small smile just wouldn't leave her face. She was getting close to reaching Asgard with her portal, she could just feel it. It was an itch, that started at her toes and snaked its way up to her nose. The feeling wasn't foreign to Hermione, either. Now she knew that the portal would be successful soon. It was a surprise to her, as well. With the detailed plan she'd laid out, she was meant to finish the portal in three years, four years total. After working irresponsibly hard, though, she managed to get close to the end in just one.

To say she was proud of it was an understatement. This project, deep down in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, had practically become her life. In fact, thinking about it, Hermione couldn't remember the last time she visited her friends, or even spoke to them. Frowning slightly, she reassured herself that when the Portal was finished, then she would talk to them. Besides, she was far too distracted by her Project. Even if she did see them, her mind would be wandering through the forest of infinite next steps to take.

A small shop, with cushy chairs in the windows and small chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, welcomed Hermione as she walked in. The putrid smell of too much incense assaulted her nostrils. Swallowing her disgust, Hermione made her way over to a stand holding blankets. She absolutely hated the smell of the store, but the products were excellent, so she put up with it.

"Good to see you back, Hermione!" The gravelly voice of Todd, the American owner of the store, came from behind the counter. "Back for another blanket? Seems just yesterday you were in here buying a chair with that strange, tall man." Hermione swallowed the memory of taking Loki here to get his green armchair. The armchair that still sat in her flat, with a grey blanket draped over the shoulder, gather dust. Right now, she needed to focus on the Portal and get back there as quickly as possible.

Hermione picked up a blanket in a dark green. It was now one of her favourite colours. Yes, it would do nicely. "That was last year, Todd." She turned towards the bearded man. He grinned and tapped his nose.

"Seems being the operative word." Todd waved dismissively. "Come here and I'll ring that up for you―what the Hell?" Todd's eyes had gone wide. Hermione wheeled around to see what he was looking at. Her eyes immediately widened in shock as well.

Outside the store, there were at least ten men and women, all dressed in what black. Their handguns were drawn and all pointed directly at Hermione. She gulped. Discreetly, Hermione twisted her wrist so that her wand fell out of the holster and into her hand. She saw some of the people outside the shop register the appearance of what appeared to be a stick. They tensed. Behind them, people walking down the street were stopping and staring at the confrontation. She grit her teeth. Bad luck just seemed to be throwing itself at her these days.

"Hermione Granger! Come out of the store with your hands on your head, now!" A man with cropped black hair stepped forward, barking orders. His gun was still trained on her. "Do as we say!" He kicked the door to the store open.

Icy rage filled Hermione. Who were these people, and what right did they have to arrest her? She'd done nothing wrong. Add in the fact that they were obviously muggles, and Hermione found herself with bit of an enigma. What the heck was going on?

"I most certainly will not come with you," Hermione laughed coldly. She raised the wand and pointed it at the man's face. She didn't care that they were muggles. Her life was on the line, with the way they were pointing the guns at her. She was going to defend herself. Muggle witnesses could be obliviated later. Behind her, Todd squeaked in fear. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Put the stick down, Granger." Even as he said that, Hermione could see the confusion in his eyes. He couldn't believe that she would threaten him with a _stick_ of all things. Of course, he didn't know that it was actually a wand.

"I don't think so." Incredibly quick, Hermione lunged at him, crying, " _Expelliarmus!_ " The pistol flew out of his hands and into Hermione's own. She aimed it at him, even though she didn't know how to use it. The rest of the people, who she now assumed were agents of some sort, swarmed into the store. Their eyes glinted dangerously.

Hermione didn't give them time to react. She turned on her heel and disappeared with an ear piercing crack. The agents in the store were left blinking in shock. A stifling silence filled the room, before one of the agents spoke to someone through an earpiece.

"Sir, there's been a development. The target is...magical, it seems."

* * *

Nick Fury glared at the picture of Hermione Granger. Normally this would be a simple operation. Send agents to England, acquire the target and bring her back for questioning, all within three hours. Unfortunately for Fury's temper, Granger insisted on evading them. And now there was the added development that she had similar abilities to Loki. It explained their stint together. Perhaps they bonded over their shared abilities, though Fury found it near impossible to imagine Loki being even cordial with someone. He was a complete menace.

So, when the words came through that Granger was magical, Fury immediately sent the agents to her address. It was the most likely place for her to go after disappearing. As soon as he heard their footsteps thundering out the door, Fury whirled around and made his way to the chamber where they were keeping Loki.

He opened the door and saw the menace calmly standing, staring directly at Fury, with an eerie smile. Fury shook off his discomfort and began talking.

"Hermione Granger." For the first time, there was an actual reaction. He took a few steps forward, until he was right up close to the glass, and uncomfortably close to Fury. He

"What do you know about her?" He snarled. Fury noted that Loki's fists were clenched. He was getting really riled up about this woman. What was so special about her? "TELL ME!" Loki slammed his fists against the glass with impossible strength. It didn't shatter, though. "If you value your life, you will tell me what you know about her, sniveling mortal!" His voice was deadly.

Fury raised his chin slightly, hands clasped behind his back. "What I want to know is how you know her. You were on Earth last year, with Granger. Coincidentally, this was a week before Thor was banished from Asgard."

"Do not speak of my brother to me." Loki spat Thor's name out like it was poison. "And my time with Hermione is nothing you need to know about, human."

"We're trying to bring her in for questioning." A small smile crept over Loki's face.

"You'll never catch her."

* * *

Hermione landed in her flat with an anguished gasp. Her hands were trembling from fright and she was sure that if she looked in a mirror, her face would be milky white. She needed to get away from her flat, and quick. Soon, those agents would be knocking the door down and barging into her apartment. She knew how they worked.

The safest place for her to go right now was the Ministry of Magic. Specifically, the Department of Mysteries. There was absolutely no way for the Muggles to get in, even if they had a relative that was magical.

Rushing around the flat, Hermione snatched her immaculate Unspeakable robes off the hanger and pulled herself into them. She didn't bother to take off the jeans and shirt she was already wearing, as there was no time. Thundering footsteps were already echoing up the stairwell. Sprinting into the kitchen, Hermione grabbed a file. Just as the door crashed open and agents spilled into the room, Hermione turned on her heel and disappeared with another crack.

* * *

With a deafening crack, Hermione arrived in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic. She began running down the corridors that she now knew by heart. Her shoes slapped on the ground and her heart leaped around her chest, creating a strange rhythm. Today just really wasn't her day. All she wanted to do was buy a bloody blanket, but no, she had to be confronted by muggle agents who seemed intent on capturing her for some unknown reason. And now they were in her house, which really wasn't the most ideal situation.

As she was running down the hall, Hermione was so caught up in her wayward thoughts that she didn't notice Atlas Valerius calmly walking in front of her. With a tremendous crash, they collided, falling heavily to the floor. Hermione gave a startles squeak, her papers flying into the air and wand clattering to the ground. Her cheeks began to flush red. To crash in the Minister of Magic was utterly mortifying.

"Ah, Hermione," said Valerius cheerfully, as though he wasn't tangled up with Hermione on the ground. "I was just looking for you." He pulled himself up and stood with his usual straight back, brushing invisible bits of dust off his robes. A very ruffled Hermione sprang to her feet, after gathering her wand and file back into her arms.

"You were?" She composed herself, smoothing down her hair. It was rare to have a direct encounter with Valerius, so to crash into him was definitely a worst case scenario. Oh, how Ron and Harry would absolutely piss themselves laughing when she told them. She was glad that they would be able to find the story hilarious, even if she didn't.

"Of course. I was hoping that you would be able to provide me with an update on your Portal, and how your travels to Asgard are going."

"I actually haven't gone to Asgard, sir." She frowned. Why would he think that? Going to Asgard was close, but not that close. How could he have gotten that idea? "And the Portal is going well, thank you. I am close to reaching Asgard. It will likely be a month before I get there, which to me is simply phenomenal, don't you think? To think that only a year ago I began. It's amazing how far I've come in only one year. I impress even myself sometimes." An amused chuckle came from Valerius. Hermione swallowed the words she was going to spit out next. Her cheeks flushed crimson once again when she realised the rant she'd just gone on. Even immediately afterwards, she was cringing with how egotistical she sounded.

"As proud as you are of yourself, I asked for an update on the Portal, now how impressed you were with yourself."

Hermione hastily nodded, eyes darting around. What was up with her? Surely, the agents chasing after her were a shock, but she shouldn't be on edge. She was safe here. There was inherent sense of wrongness creeping up her spine that she couldn't shake. It was beginning to drive her loopy.

"I'm sorry about that. It won't happen again." Her voice came out breathy and slightly shaking. Hermione shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of an invisible foe.

"Make sure it doesn't." Valerius sighed and stopped walking. He turned to face Hermione and put his hands on her shoulders, gazing down at her in what was supposed to be a calming manner. However, it just turned out to be unsettling. "Look, Hermione. I don't know what's happened to you today. I just know something's happened to make you so flustered. How about this. After you show me how the Portal is going, you take a break? You can take as long as you need and, tell you what, I'll even make sure it's paid leave."

Hermione's eyebrows crinkled. "I'm sorry, but I won't be accepting. It's clear that you won't do this for any other Ministry employees, so I don't know why you're doing it for me. Unless you do the same for others, I am going to stay right here." She stepped away from him, now feeling very uncomfortable. The sooner his visit to the Portal was over, the better. "Right, let's go. The Idunn Chamber is right down here." She bustled off, refusing to look him in the eyes.

Valerius made a noise of protest, before hurrying after her. Hermione ignored him. Her opinion was now firmly set. She didn't like him, and the least amount of time she spent with him, the better.

"Hermione, listen. Why won't you take the offer?" He placed a hand on her shoulder again. Hermione kept walking, hyper aware of the questioning stares of other Unspeakables.

"I've already told you. And don't touch me."

"Alright."

Fortunately, Hermione was saved from replying by the very familiar door of the Idunn Chamber. She wrenched it open, stepping through. The sight of her pride and joy, the rune covered, stone archway, was very welcome.

"Now, what was it you wanted to see?" She placed the file down on her desk and put her wand away. Valerius wandered around the room, inspecting everything with an attentive eye, before replying.

"I would like you to turn it on, so I can see how it works." It was a blunt reply. Hermione nodded and pressed the rune at the back that activated the Portal. At the moment, it was keyed only to react to her magical signature, something she'd explained to Valerius in a previous meeting. It whooshed to life, the red and gold colour swirling into each other.

"You've already seen it before, so I'll turn it off in a few minutes, okay?" Valerius didn't reply. Instead, he grabbed her shoulders again and steered her in front of the portal. "What the Hell are you doing?" He leaned forward and whispered in her ear:

"Something I've wanted to do for a very long time." Hermione shivered at the dark tone of his voice. Something was definitely off with him today.

Then, he shoved her forward, directly into the swirling portal. Hermione cried out in shock as she fell through the portal. A slight current washed over her skin, before she was plummeting towards the surface of the trash planet she was desperately trying to get away from. With a tremendous crash, she landed face up.

Agonising pain shot through her leg, fiery and hot. Hermione looked down and screamed when she saw a sheet of metal embedded more than halfway through her thigh. Thick blood began oozing out of the wound. Panic began to consume her.

Above her, a swirling circle hung in the sky. Hermione watched in horror as the head of Atlas Valerious poked through, viciously grinning at her.

"Thank you for giving me the perfect opportunity to get rid of you, Hermione," he said sweetly. "It looks like an accident now." He glanced down at her leg. "Ooh, that's got to hurt. Too bad."

"Why the Hell are you doing this, you bastard?" Hermione groaned the words out, the pain from her leg increasing with every second. Valerious gave her a horribly simpering smile that reminded her of Umbridge.

"I don't like you, that's all. And people I don't like, I get rid of. Remember Jillian Stone? How about Henry Travis? Or Dot Cardinal? You're just too annoying. That and the fact that Potter has far too many opinions for one person."

"You won't get away with this," Hermione spat. "Just you wait."

Valerius laughed. "You know, I'll stay in office for a long time. So, if you ever feel like popping in to say hello, and maybe have tea and biscuits, I'll be more than happy to. Happy travels."

He withdrew his head. Hermione watched through a haze of pain as the portal closed with a thundering noise. A distant sense of loss settled over her, black dancing at the edges of her vision. She thoughts she heard footsteps crunching towards her, but couldn't be sure.

"Well, that's certainly one way to arrive on the planet." Hermione barely registered a face hovering above her, with strange white markings painted on it, before she passed out from shock and exhaustion.

Some day she was having.

* * *

 _So._

 _I have decided to do a new chapter system. I am finding myself totally burned out with the longer chapters, so have decided to do shorter ones, up to three-thousand words, twice a week. It's just personal preference, as well as on the helpful advice of one of my readers. I hope you don't mind this change. I'm actually feeling better after changing it. It's still six thousand words a week, which is what my longer chapters are averaging as. It's a win win situation._

 _Also, the reason that I'm updating early is that the 30th of November is my birthday, woop. Officially sixteen._

 _Can anyone figure out where Hermione is?_

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria._


	8. The Dreaded Laser Grid

With a groan, Hermione awoke. She seemed to be lying on a vibrating surface. She was getting jostled around, an intense tattoo beating on the inside of her skull. Unfairly bright light shot into her bleary, sleep riddled eyes. Above her, a woman with intricate white markings on her face was piloting a ship, obviously not paying attention to Hermione. Something seemed to be pinching her neck, though that thought was crushed when unbearable pain suddenly made itself known, coming from her leg. With a huge effort, and a lot of hissing, Hermione managed to haul her head up and get a glance at why the pain was so bad. What she saw made the blood instantly drain from her face, leaving her pale as a ghost.

A huge gash slashed through her leg, deeper than she could see. The crimson blood seeping through the wound was thick, clumping and congealing. Bile instantly rose in Hermione's throat. Never had she had an injury as foul and serious as this one. It would take a while to heal, even with her wand…

Hermione's eyes widened. Where was her wand? It wasn't with her at the moment, she knew that. She couldn't feel it's tiny, warm presence pricking at her magic, either. That meant it had to be far away. Considering the circumstances that Hermione currently found herself in, it was unlikely that she would be getting her wand back anytime soon.

"Awake, are we?" Came the voice of the woman piloting what Hermione assume was a plane of some sort. "Good."

"Who are you? Where are you taking me?" demanded Hermione. The woman tutted, smirking at Hermione. It was infuriating. Had her leg not been causing her some of the worst pain that she'd ever felt, Hermione would have no qualms about slapping the smug smile off the woman's face. The nerve of her! Treating Hermione like she was some child, like she wasn't even worth speaking to.

"Is that the thanks I get for saving you from those Scrappers? I think that you should be a little bit more grateful than that." The woman stopped talking and looked directly at Hermione, not paying attention to where her ship was going. "So many questions, and none are getting answers. Guess you're just going to have to wonder, little girl."

"Little girl?" Hermione seethed. She shifted in anger and gasped as the pain in her leg flared dramatically. "I am older than you."

"Trust me, you're not." The woman was laughing now, at some inside joke that Hermione clearly didn't understand. "Look, I'm taking you back to my apartment, where I am going to heal your leg. It'll take about a month, so you're going to have to stay out from under my feet, okay? Then you're going to take part in the Contest of Champions and entertain people with your undoubtedly gruesome death." The woman turned her gaze back to where they were traveling. "I'm Valkyrie, by the way."

"Oh, what a fantastic way to introduce yourself," scoffed Hermione. This woman, Valkyrie, clearly had no idea how to employ a single shred of tact in her conversations. That, or she just couldn't be bothered with decent manners. Hermione had a sneaking suspicion that it was the latter. "Just kill me right now, why don't you?"

"No, you're far too entertaining."

"Well, thanks."

"You're welcome."

"Do you have any semblance of manners?"

"I just told you that you're welcome."

"It was very sarcastic."

"I'm aware." Valkyrie huffed. "Now, you're in my ship. Stop lecturing me about my own manners. It's rude." Hermione frowned. Valkyrie smiled, before digging something out of her pocket. It seemed to be a remote of some sort. "Now, sleep."

Valkyrie pressed a button down on the remote. Blue light climbed up the side of it, before electrical currents leapt over Hermione's body. She grit her teeth as the blue electricity danced on her skin.

It wasn't long before darkness claimed her.

* * *

"What do you mean, 'Hermione's missing?" A very angry Harry Potter was pacing in Atlas Valerius' office. "How can she just be missing?"

"It's very simple, Mr. Potter. Her work in the Department of Mysteries is very dangerous and volatile. There was a high possibility that she would make a mistake. And unfortunately, she did." Valerius tilted his head at Harry in a condescending way. Harry bristled, his eyes like shards of ice and lips thinned in a way that would impress even McGonagall.

Harry slammed his fists on Valerius' desk so hard that his jar of quills rattled. "You don't seem very torn up about this. I would have thought, with all the time you were spending with her, all the interest you were investing in her project, that you would be more than a stone cold bastard. Merlin's beard, I can't believe you were elected. You're worse than Fudge." A solitary tear threatened to fall down his cheek.

Valerius abruptly stood, glaring at Harry, expecting him to back down.

He did not.

"You have overstepped, Mr Potter. I have put up with you for a long time. I have let you get away with what many people would be punished and reprimanded for. Not this time, though." Valerius angrily strode around the large, wooden desk, feet stomping hard on the floor. He pointed a finger at Harry, and grit his teeth together. "From now on, you're fired. You're banned from working at the Ministry. And tell the same to your pitiful blind friend Ron Weasley, too. I want you both gone by tonight."

"I don't care about you firing me, _Sir_." It almost physically pained Harry to use the respectful term when he hated the awful man with every fiber of his being. "This is about Hermione, and how you haven't even bothered looking for her! You can't just immediately mark someone down as dead, not without looking at them. You can't just do this!"

"Well guess what, Potter," sneered Valerius. "I just did. Her portal is broken and she fell through it. There is no way for her to get back, so I marked her down as dead. I made the final decision and I won't hear any more from you. Understood?"

"No, not understood." In his anger, Harry grabbed out his wand and pressed it to the thick throat of Valerius. "You can't just do this. I won't let you. So, unless you create a search for Hermione, you're going to seriously regret it."

"Just because you fought in the War and defeated Voldemort, does not mean I am going to give you special treatment. Take the wand down from my throat." Harry didn't move. " _Now._ " Reluctantly, Harry returned his wand to his holster. "Outside that door are two Auror's waiting to escort you to your old office, in handcuffs. If you make any move against them, they are authorised to stun you. Now go. I want both you and Weasley gone by tonight."

Thrumming with unreleased anger, Harry turned on his heel and stalked out of the office, not even bothering to look at Valerius anymore. He couldn't just give up on Hermione like that. No one could. She was too important. And to Harry, it didn't matter that he was fired. That was at the bottom of his list of worries at the moment. Right now, all he cared about was discovering what Hermione had been working on.

"Oh, Potter." Harry stopped dead in his tracks, not bothering to turn around. He wouldn't give Valerius the satisfaction of seeing him wound up like a corkscrew, and then some. "It might make you happy to know that if she ever comes back, I have invited her for tea. Lovely, right?"

"Simply splendid."

* * *

A stinging pain shot through Hermione's cheek. She let out a harsh yell, her body bucking in shock. Slowly, the pain receded, transforming into a dull, throbbing ache. She heard heavy, uneven footsteps moving away from her. With her left hand, Hermione rubbed the sore spot, knowing exactly who was responsible. Adding to the pain was the discomfort that emanated from everywhere on her body, a result of being electrocuted into unconsciousness.

"What was that for?" she groaned, slowly sitting up. Hermione was happy to note that the grisly gash on her leg had been cleaned and bandaged. At least there was one positive in her life right now. The rest of it was a total disaster. "And you can't just electrify me! That was absolutely disgusting!"

"I can do whatever I want, sweetie," came the slurred voice of Valkyrie. Hermione glanced to her left and sighed when she saw Valkyrie guzzling down a bottle of some unidentifiable substance. It was most likely incredibly strong, given the way that, even on a stool, Valkyrie was swaying, desperately trying to keep her balance. "And you weren't waking up, so I slapped you. It was that or ice water. You were asleep, so I chose for you. Pretty simple, really." She took another swig from her bottle, before losing grip on the neck of it. It plummeted to the ground and smashed on the ground, amber liquid racing over the floor. "Oh. That's unfortunate."

Hermione stared in disbelief. This woman was the most insufferable...thing that she'd ever had the misfortune of meeting. First, she cared more about a bottle of alcohol than the injured person sitting near her, and second, she had an attitude that would cause even Ron to blush. She was Hermione's worst nightmares and most unendurable annoyances rolled into one awful human being.

"Oh, isn't that unfortunate," Hermione mocked. "Where will you get a new one?" She swiveled so that she was sitting up straight, her leg dangling over the side of the window seat she was positioned on. At least the mattress, threadbare as it was, held some semblance of comfort.

"Good idea. I'll go and get a new one now. I'll be back." Valkyrie jumped to her feet and staggered over to the doorway, hitting a button on the wall. Nothing happened, which made Hermione frown. Perhaps Valkyrie was so out of it that she was pressing buttons that did nothing? The thought of it made Hermione snicker a little bit. Where this sudden hatred for Valkyrie came from, she didn't know. It was unlike her to dislike people on principal, unless they gave her a very good reason. Thinking about it, though, Hermione had several very good reasons, starting with the fact that Valkyrie electrocuted her.

"Don't go anywhere." Valkyrie pointed a finger at Hermione, waggling it slightly. "You won't be able to go far, anyway. Not with that leg." She waggled her finger again. "Stay." In the moment, Hermione felt rather like a dog.

"Sure thing," Hermione sighed, slouching back into the window seat. It was too far back, so she ended up lying on her back, with only her head propped up. The sight must have been fairly amusing, according to Valkyrie's drunken sniggers. She stayed there until the sniggers receded down the hallway.

Immediately, she sat up, intent on observing the room and any possibly exits. If Valkyrie thought she was just going to stay here, she was sorely mistaken. The room was mainly green, with jagged white lines cutting through the richly coloured walls. The pattered were fairly interesting, though nothing Hermione would pay closer attention to unless she was checking for a secret exit. Ahead of her, there was a small, open door, an obvious escape that Hermione would likely be taking later. To the left, there was a closed door, presumably leading to the bathroom and bedroom. That was one place Hermione would most certainly be staying away from. Finally, to the right, there was a small kitchen and bar, with three stools scattered near it.

The entire apartment was horrendously cluttered, with rogue bottle of liquor perching on shelves and peeking out of nooks and crannies. All of them were empty. This girl had a real problem, one that Hermione wasn't going to interfere with. If she wanted to drink herself to death, then that was her own decision. Strange garments littered the floor, reminiscent of armour, only with a modern twist. Lengths of fabric with clasps at the corners were draped around the room as well. It was possible that these were capes, though what need would Valkyrie have for them?

Behind her, a large window let bright light stream into the apartment, bathing the cluttered floor. Hermione gazed despondently out of the window, at last realising that she really was stuck on this alien planet. Towers cobbled together with scraps and large sheets of colourful metal reached for the sky, wonky and uneven. There was nothing like this strange horizon on earth, nothing even remotely close. It was so foreign to her that she began to feel slightly dizzy, and had to prop herself up.

Turning away from the window, Hermione quashed the hole that was beginning to grow in her chest and focussed on the door. It would be unbelievably simple to just walk through it and leave. The disadvantage Hermione had was that she didn't know her way around. Also the deep cut that marred her thigh. That would definitely be a problem.

Swallowing the pain that was going to come, Hermione gently stood, being careful to put as little weight as possibly on her injured leg. Even so, fire bit at her nerves. Biting her tongue to stifle the pain, she hobbled over to the door, leaning heavily on the green and white walls for support. Without any fanfare, she reached the door.

All she was going to do was stick her head out to scope her surroundings.

Unfortunately, the second she did that, a red grid made of lasers sprang to life over the door, setting electricity dancing over her skin once again.

Hermione was unconscious before she hit the floor.

* * *

"And this time, actually stay inside. You aren't leaving this room until your leg is healed, alright? You're too interesting to let wander around, and I want to see you fight." Valkyrie was standing in front of a petulant Hermione, hands on her hips. Hermione felt like a complete child, which utterly enraged her. Something about this woman screamed age and wisdom, despite the fact that she didn't look like she was more than twenty three. "I'm going Scrapping, so I'll be gone for a few hours. You can make yourself food in the kitchen, I don't care what you use."

"You do realise that you tell me this every day? I know it off by heart already. You can stop."

Valkyrie smirked. "Nerd." She sashayed out of the door, pressing the button that Hermione now knew activated the dreaded laser grid. She scowled at the back of the retreating monstrosity who was keeping her captive.

For the last three weeks, Hermione had been trapped in the unbearably small apartment. There was only so much she could do to keep herself entertained, and Valkyrie wasn't exactly one to help. She desperately wanted to practice her magic, to see what she could do without her precious wand, but she wasn't going to risk Valkyrie finding out and telling the Grandmaster about it. That was definitely the last thing she wanted.

Her leg was almost healed, which meant that her detailed escape plan was reaching fruition. Behind her immensely strengthened Occlumency Shields, something she decided to do to pass the agonizingly slow time (comparable to molasses), the escape plan hid, festering and boiling, just waiting for the right time.

A loud gurgle from her stomach interrupted her thoughts. She limped towards the kitchen, where she would prepare a meal. It was nothing more than a menial task, one that bothered her a lot. The food here was abysmal, especially compared to the food she was used to preparing herself.

Blindly reaching into a cupboard, Hermione swept her hand around, rattling containers until she found one with something in it. Valkyrie, constantly full on alcohol, rarely stocked up her food, so to find something was often a pleasant surprise, if Hermione was to put it nicely. If she was being realistic, it was a bloody miracle. Her frustration was so poignant that she was using swear words now, something that she never did.

To her surprise, a one of the last containers that she shook had something in it. Grinning in triumph, Hermione pulled out a clear, battered container with an apple in it. It had golden skin, and looked ripe.

Perfect.

Soon, the apple was chopped into pieces and neatly arranged on a plate. By some miracle, it actually looked like it would taste of something more than the colour beige, so she decided to present it nicely. Settling down in her corner, Hermione held the plate and plucked a singular slice from the plate.

It was oddly sweet, and slithered down her throat. She wasn't complaining, though. To have food that tasted of something was a godsend, so she gobbled it down and when it was finished, wished for more. It was absolutely delicious, and left her feeling invigorated and lively. That feeling was fleeting and foreign, so Hermione decided to make the most of it.

She leapt to her feet, barely any pain coming from her leg. It was unusual, but she would take it. Something about the apple made her feel...different. It was a good different, though. An excellent one. In fact, this was the best she'd felt since landing on this trash dump of a planet, and that was saying something.

Her eyes landed on the button, and a devilish grin came over her face. Maybe, she could hit it. Or punch it, even. It would let out her frustrations, and while her hand would most likely be sore for the next few days, it would be worth it to see the smug look on Valkyrie's face. That was very amusing to Hermione all of a sudden.

Approaching the button, Hermione flexed her fingers, curling them into a fist. She grinned at the button, before flinging her hand forward. Unfortunately, the impact never came.

"Um…"

Her arm was embedded in the wall, and the button lay decimated on the floor, shattered into several pieces. Hermione's eyes widened in complete shock and terror.

What in Merlin's name was going on?

* * *

 _I hope that you enjoyed this chapter. It's moving the plot along a little bit. As far as things are going planning wise, there are around three chapters on Sakaar, before the big thing happens. I won't say what it is._

 _I am also going away on holiday soon, for three weeks, so expect a few random new chapters. I'll be posting them as I finish them. We're leaving on the 23rd of this month._

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria_


	9. Shattered Bowls Are Amusing To Valkyrie

"WHAT!"

Instantly, Hermione yanked her hand out of the incredibly deep hole she'd somehow punched into the wall. Her chest began heaving as panic descended upon her. Hands shaking, Hermione turned them over in front of her eyes, making sure that they were real. Perhaps this was all just one awful dream, one that she would wake up from very soon. Then, she would be able to reassure herself that the only thing going wrong in the situation was her overactive imagination.

Unfortunately, using her normal technique of squeezing her eyes shut didn't work. When she opened them again, she was standing vertically, with trembling hands and a very large hole in the wall. It was like a mouth, cackling at her, mocking her for something that she had no idea about. No idea how it happened and yet it continued laughing, a maniacal sound that wormed its way into her brain and left a trail of doubt and insecurity in its wake.

A million questions began rushing through her head, like a river that was dangerously close to breaking the banks. One was pushing its way to the front though, barging through the violet ocean sloshing inside her mind. How was this happening? Her arms felt normal, her entire body felt normal. But she wasn't normal. If she was normal, she wouldn't be punching holes through walls and decimating extremely solid metal.

She sucked in several deep, calming breaths. Freaking out would do her no good whatsoever. It would hinder her progress in figuring out what had happened to her and just what was inside that apple.

A sudden spark leapt at the end of her fingers, a soft blue colour. Hermione stepped back in shock. She knew exactly what that spark was. The feeling of it was so familiar that she couldn't deny it. Her magic was taking form at the ends of her fingers, moving without a wand, without her doing, actually physically manifesting without a spell. She brought her hands up close to her face and willed the spark to happen again.

To her surprise, little bursts of light began jump around her hands, creating a type of halo. They were different shades of blue, with the occasional silver spark mixed in there. To Hermione, it was hauntingly beautiful. So this was what her magic looked like. A mystical force made up of the most stunning, calming, incredible colours that there were, at her command. It was gentle and intense, dancing an elegant waltz across her skin. The sparks began twirling up her arms, slowly heading towards her shoulders.

Hermione let out a short, startled laugh as the intensity of her magic increased. She could imagine herself reveling in the familiar wonderment of her magic, getting drunk in it. But, she wouldn't let herself do that. There were stories of witches and wizards who went rogue, becoming obsessed with furthering their power. It was a slippery slope once you fell into it, and that was not something that she was going to do.

Her arms were now completely surrounded with light, sleeves of sparks. Hermione shivered at the feeling, before her eyes fell on the hole in the wall. The hole she'd somehow created due to some super freaky strength drug that was likely inside the apple.

Maybe...if she thought about repairing the hole, she could do it. Her magic was acting in a similar way to how Loki described his magic, so perhaps if she worked her magic in a similar way to him, she would be able to repair the wall. It was worth a shot.

Gathering it up, Hermione pointed her hand towards the hole, and willed it to repair. She was repeating, ' _Reparo_ ' over and over in her head, mentally crossing her fingers. A jet of blue light launched out of her fingers and collided with the wall.

She instantly knew something was wrong.

With a loud, ' _boom_ ,' the wall exploded outwards, large chunks of green and white metal rocketing towards her. Eyes wide, Hermione leaped out of the way, just avoiding being bonked on the head with a very large piece of wall. Dust was clouding outwards, causing Hermione to violently cough.

Through her hacking, Hermione heard distant footsteps approaching the room. She gulped.

It was Valkyrie.

She desperately willed the sparks to disappear from her arms and hands, and they slowly dissipated, popping and fizzing, until nothing remained.

The smoke cleared, leaving an infuriated Valkyrie sending a murderous glare at Hermione. If looks could kill, then she would be dead as a doorknob.

"What in Odin's name happened here?" Valkyrie dangerously strode forward, sword in one hand and a large liquor bottle in the other. Hermione couldn't help but snort. It was just so...Valkyrie. She came to immediately regret it when the bottle of alcohol was hurled at her. It smashed on the wall behind her, amber liquid sliding down the only wall that wasn't exploded. The damage that she'd done was worse than she initially imagined.

So much for repairing the hole. All she'd achieved was covering up her old problem with an exponentially larger one.

Hermione sidled against the wall, towards the infuriated woman. "There was a slight...accident, you could say."

"You call this an accident?" Valkyrie took a menacing step towards Hermione, brandishing her sword in a threatening manner. Hermione gulped. Hopefully it wouldn't be thrown at her. She wouldn't put it past Valkyrie to do that. "You blew up half my bloody apartment. Explain. NOW!"

"I don't know how I did it!" Hermione instantly cringed at the lie. It was so obvious that a three year old would be able to see through it. Valkyrie saw through it, that much was clear.

"You obviously did. Tell me right now, or I will throw my sword at you and won't mind if I kill you." To emphasise her point, she raised the sword over her head. Hermione subconsciously ducked, before blurting out the entire story.

"Okay, okay. I was making myself food, and there was nothing in the cupboards. You really should stock up on food, by the way, your collection is pitiful. Right, right, story. I came across an apple, and you said to help myself to anything, so I ate it―WOAH!"

Valkyrie violently threw the sword towards her, anger written all over her face. Instantly, Hermione threw her hands out and created a sparkling shield, which the sword harmlessly bounced off. It clattered to the floor, skittering across it until it was stopped by a chunk of wall. Hermione peeked out over the top of her crossed hands, cautiously glancing at Valkyrie.

Said person was staring at Hermione in complete and utter shock, mouth hanging wide open. Hermione wouldn't be surprised if a spider scuttled in and took up residence in there. That, or Valkyrie was a codfish in human form. She wasn't sure what the correct explanation was. Each of them was perfectly plausible…

"You have magic?" Valkyrie's voice was astronomically incredulous, though a note of excitement was sneaking through. The incredulity was of levels Hermione had never heard before. And with her hanging around Ron, that was saying something. "Why have you been hiding this?" Valkyrie caught herself in the middle of her excitement, forcing a scowl to cover her face again. It wasn't real though. The corners of her lips twitched, and her eyes were still shining.

Apparently, Valkyrie really liked magic.

"Don't think you're off the hook for eating my apple. That's my last real link back to home."

"That was a rather abrupt subject change."

"I can talk about whatever I want," hissed Valkyrie, the shine slowly seeping out of her eyes, being replaced with a stone cold rage comparable to Professor McGonagall. "You ate my apple!"

"It was in the cupboard! You explicitly told me that I was allowed to help myself to anything in it. It wasn't like there was much else to choose from. Get your story straight." defended Hermione, standing up and glaring at Valkyrie. She wasn't going to let this woman get in her way anymore. She had a newfound strength and uncontrollable magic, which really did irk her, but she was going to use it to get out of the decimated apartment and finally back home, on Earth, where she belonged.

Where she was happy.

"I don't care what I said. You ate my last link to home. _Ate_ it!" Valkyrie was pacing, angrily bunching her cape in her fists. Hermione didn't let this put her off. She moved closer to Valkyrie, so she was eye to eye with the woman. She was done being controlled. Her leg was almost healed, and she could walk on it well.

"And where is home, if I may ask?"

Valkyrie sneered at Hermione. "A little place called Asgard, though you won't have heard of it."

Hermione's rampaging thoughts skidded to a stop immediately. _Asgard?_ As in Loki's home? The realm she had been obsessively researching for the last year because she knew it was a reality?

"Wait, say that again. You're from Asgard?"

"The one and only," sighed Valkyrie. She flopped down onto a large piece of wall, elbows resting on her knees. Hermione sat down next to her, squishing onto the same makeshift seat. It was mildly uncomfortable, making her think that maybe she should have hauled over another chunk of her own.

"I've heard of it."

"Obviously. So, are you one of those Midgardians who are obsessed with what you call mythology?"

"Yeah, I know it's a reality. Kind of hard not to when one of your best friends is Loki Odinson." Hermione smirked at Valkyrie's reaction. Her back instantly straightened, and her eyes hardened.

"And, pray tell, how did that happen?"

"It was around a year ago…"

Before Hermione knew it, she was chatting away with Valkyrie like they were old friends. The other woman, who Hermione now learned was a four-thousand year old highly trained warrior from Asgard, seemed to relax, slowly easing herself into the conversation with Hermione. Everything was going well, until she dropped a massive bomb on Hermione.

"The reason I got so tied up about the apple...it's complicated." She shifted uncomfortably, before taking a massive swig of what Hermione assumed was a very strong whiskey. Wiping her mouth, Valkyrie blurted out: "That apple was given to me by my friend Idunn.

Hermione slumped over in a dead faint, just like Valkyrie expected her to.

"Welcome to the ranks of Asgardians, Granger," she muttered, before stumbling into her bedroom and falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

"You'll get used to your strength," stated Valkyrie bluntly. "It'll be funny to watch you fumbling around while you do, though."

Hermione sat down opposite her, still absorbing the news that she was changed forever, and would outlive everyone she knew, if she ever got back to Earth. It was weighing heavy on her shoulders. She decided not to focus on that, though. Right now, she could focus on the positives, which never did anyone any harm. That, and she was secretly looking forward to learning how to use her new magic. It would be fascinating to analyse the crap out of it, learning every little idiosyncrasy that there was. It sent a very familiar tingle up her spine, feeding into her brain.

"I don't fumble," sniffed Hermione. She reached forward for a bowl. As she picked it up, it immediately shattered in her hand, falling down onto the counter with delicate 'tink' sounds. Sheepishly, she drew her hand back, avoiding looking at Valkyrie. She just knew that in infuriating smirk would be decorating her face. "Okay, maybe I can fumble."

"You crushed it!" snorted Valkyrie.

"You set me up for this, didn't you?" Hermione's head snapped up, finger pointing accusingly. There was an endless amount of mirth on Valkyrie's face.

"Of course I did! You don't take me for an emotionless dolt, do you?"

"You come close to it, sometimes," Hermione muttered. She ducked, avoiding the ceramic bowl that was thrown her way. Unfortunately, she lost her balance, causing her to plummet towards the ground. Her hand shot outwards, grabbing onto the countertop. To her surprise, the countertop crumbled where she held it, and she hit the floor. Hard.

"Yeah, you're definitely struggling."

"I am not!" squeaked Hermione, brushing herself down, cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson.

"Yeah, you are." Valkyrie paused for a second, before flashing a shark-like grin in Hermione's direction. "I think I'll keep you for a bit longer."

"I DO NOT AGREE WITH THIS."

* * *

Maybe Hermione did agree with it. It was with great reluctance that she admitted this fact to herself. Over the last two months, though she was still stuck in the apartment, she had become close friends with Valkyrie, who she now knew incredibly well.

Maybe too well. She knew that Valkyrie was trying to drink until she was dead, which had eased off slightly ever since Hermione decided to get closer to her. She knew that Valkyrie had a small scar on her elbow from training with her friend when she was two-hundred, and that she'd elected to keep it because it was a reminder to keep on keeping on. And Hermione knew that Valkyrie, though she had an incredibly tough outer shell, was quite sensitive on the inside, a fact which hadn't really startled her. It did make her smile, though.

Valkyrie really was a nice Asgardian (not human, she kept reminding herself), once you dug your way past the barriers she so carefully erected, found your way through the haze of alcohol she wore like a veil. She laughed at stupid jokes, and cared about small things. She even restocked the cupboards each week for Hermione, which was a miracle in itself.

It was strange, she thought. She could have left at any moment, just teleported out. She was now in decent control of her magic, which flowed through her body and left her feeling lighter every time she practiced it. To leave would have been so easy, so simple, like taking candy from a baby.

And yet she stayed.

"I don't know what's going on," she murmured, carefully waving her hands in a vaguely familiar pattern. She was currently trying to project her memories with her magic. It was a skill she'd been working on for a few weeks, on and off. With the constant failures, though, it was now a top priority. Hermione couldn't even imagine how incredible it would be to pluck a memory out of her head at the drop of a hat and view it in front of her. Plus, the academic applications would be boundless and endless, something that made her salivate slightly.

Not that she would _ever_ admit to it.

It was far too crude to admit to.

She closed her eyes, letting a wave of calmness engulf her. A happy memory played at the forefront of her mind. It was of when she celebrated her twenty-fifth birthday with Harry, Ron, her parents, the Weasleys and a few other friends. That was also the day that she met Maria, Ron's little girl, for the first time.

Slowly, silvery strands of magic began slithering out of her hands, edged in a gorgeous light blue. The light began knitting itself together, forming a scene. Hermione's eyes opened in trepidation and hope when she heard when she recognised as the tinkling laughter of Maria. Warmth flooded her body, with a small smile of triumph. The scene was playing out in front of her, ethereal figures chatting around a table.

"What's this?" The curious voice of Valkyrie came from behind Hermione. In her shock, she stopped concentrating, and the memory faded from existence. She sighed in defeat, before turning to Valkyrie, who was leaning against the doorframe.

"Memory Magic. I've just modified it slightly to my new magic. It's taken me a few weeks, but I've finally completed it."

"Sounds interesting. Show me more."

For Valkyrie, that was her version of extreme enthusiasm.

"It's actually very difficult, you know. I don't know if I can do it again. It's taken me weeks just to get to this point, and I am uncertain as to whether I will be able do it within the next few days."

"Come here."

"Pardon?"

"I said come over here." A little shocked by the sudden change in subject, Hermione stood and walked over to Valkyrie, who was looking strangely bashful. It was a stark contrast from her usual brash self.

"Why?" She was now standing directly in front of Valkyrie.

"I want to try something."

And before Hermione knew what was happening, Valkyrie was softly kissing her, before pulling away, deep brown eyes, cast downwards.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you don't have to be." Hermione didn't know why she was saying it, but the kiss didn't feel wrong. It actually felt kind of...nice.

"Really?"

Hermione grinned. "Maybe we could try this, and see where it goes?"

"Sounds good to me."

Hermione smiled softly, before returning the soft kiss. This was all new to her, but she wanted to discover what it was. Perhaps it could turn out to be something that Hermione never knew she wanted.

Who knows?

* * *

 _I quite enjoyed writing this chapter. I also completed my Grade 6 Musical Theatre Exam with Trinity College today, which is why there is a slight delay in this story. I think I sang very well, so woop for me._

 _Thank you for all of the reviews, views, favourites, follows, all that jazz. We've also reached 5000 views, which is phenomenal. In such a short time, too._

 _Hope you enjoyed. I'm curious to see where the kiss leads to. It kind of popped out of nowhere, so I decided to try my hands with a soft romance. Also, Loki should be returning in around two chapters, which is a week in chapter time. Woo!_

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria_


	10. Scrappers Don't Have Companions

A large brown bottle rocketed through the air and crashed into the wall above Hermione's bed. She jerked upwards, hair frizzier than a blow-dried cow, duvet tangled around her ankles. Through bleary eyes, she caught the blurry figure of Valkyrie leaning against the doorframe. She didn't even need clear eyes to see that infuriating smirk that always played upon her lips. Then again, the smirk was kind of cute. Cute and infuriating, those were the two perfect words to describe her...partner? Girlfriend? Lover?

Hermione actually wasn't sure what the status of their relationship was. For a month, they'd partaken in a tentative relationship. It mostly consisted of calling each other pet names, limited physical contact, and learning about each other's lives. There was something special about it, though. A spark, of sorts. A spark that Hermione had never felt before. It was growing in the dark, a seed sprouting and then exploding outwards, bathing everything in an unbelievable golden light.

"What was that for?" groaned Hermione, rubbing her eyes. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, gingerly touching the freezing floor. She was yet to work out heating charms, so the apartment they shared was currently frigid, even with her new resistance to the cold. "There are other ways to wake me up, you know."

"Yeah, but I felt like it."

Hermione pulled back her lips in disgust as she felt her hair, which was now strangely sticky. "Oh, come on, there's whiskey in my hair. Valks, you can do better than that."

"Doesn't mean I have to." She pulled another bottle out of nowhere and raised it above her head. Hermione cringed.

"Alright, I'm getting up. What's so urgent about today, anyway?" She grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table she insisted on having, despite Valkyrie's confusion.

"We're going to see the Grandmaster. Gonna get you something to do, instead of sitting round here all day." Hermione almost choked on the water in her mouth, before spitting it out. Through her violent coughing, she finally managed to find her voice.

"We're going today?"

"Yeah, in half an hour. You better get yourself up, or we're going to be late."

"And you didn't think to tell me of this, perhaps?" Hermione opened her very organised draws and took out the armour she was now getting used to wearing. Apparently, according to Valkyrie, she needed to get used to wearing it. That, of course, was the day that she started showing Hermione how to utilise her new strength and magic. Hermione was very grateful for the armour. She was bruised black and blue, so she couldn't even imagine what it would have been like without it. Now, she was beginning to find a nice balance between magic and physical fighting, which pleased Valkyrie immensely, along with the fact that she found an affinity for a long, thin pair of daggers.

"Your surprise is amusing."

"To you, at least." Grumbling, Hermione glared imploringly at Valkyrie to turn around while she was changing. "Can you turn around, please."

Valkyrie shifted slightly, leaning harder against the doorframe, arms now crossed. "No." Her eyes were still fixed on Hermione, who instantly felt her cheeks flush.

"Oh." Sheepishly, she turned her back to Valkyrie and quickly changed her clothes, very conscious of Valkyrie's eyes on her. "Is there a reason you need to look at me?" It was making her feel rather uncomfortable, though there was something warm about it.

"You're hot," was the blunt answer she received.

"I guess I can't argue with that." Fully dressed, she whirled around, suddenly feeling very invigorated. She grinned at Valkyrie. In a split second decision, Hermione plucked the bottle out of Valkyrie's hand and took what she hoped would be a large swig. Unfortunately, the burning taste of alcohol was so strong that she promptly spat it out, all over the floor. Wiping her mouth in shame she gave it back to Valkyrie, who was chuckling.

"I love it when you try to be tough. It's hilarious." She swung her arm over Hermione's shoulder, leaning on her slightly. "Just stick to being your normal, Memory Magic obsessed self, and we'll get along just fine."

"You should warn me when it's so strong," countered Hermione, though her heart wasn't in it. "So, are we going?"

"No, we've still got twenty minutes. I dunno what we're going to do to fill that time, but I'll think of something."

"Maybe I could show you a new memory I've been able to show?" Hermione was hopeful. Her control over her memories was improving in leaps and bounds. She was now able to create a vague haze out of most of them, though there was no sound. Luckily, once she mastered a memory, it just slipped right out at the snap of a finger, fully formed.

"I have a better idea." Hermione frowned, slightly disappointed. "Hey, buck up. You can show me when we get back. It's no biggie." Valkyrie whipped out what seemed to be a slim black cylinder, though when she took a closer look, it was definitely a pen of sorts.

"And what are you going to do with that?"

"Come on, sit down over here." Valkyrie led Hermione over to chair, walking freely through what used to be squalor. Now, there was a nice, pristine floor, in a nice, pristine apartment, courtesy of Hermione. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was mess.

"I'm really not sure what you're doing," said Hermione. Valkyrie reached down to Hermione neck and very quickly yanked the little electrical device out of her neck. It stung a little bit, but it wasn't too bad. To be honest, Hermione was just happy to have it gone. "That is not going to fill in twenty minutes, you know."

Valkyrie made an excited shushing gesture, so Hermione reluctantly shut her mouth. Valkyrie moved the pen closer to Hermione's face, before gently placing the cold nib on her right temple. It began dancing across her skin in a strangely relaxing manner. Hermione closed her eyes, leaning back in the chair. She knew that Valkyrie was drawing some of the patterns that she was so fond of on her own face. Honestly, she wasn't sure how it would look, but for today, she would go along with it.

"Alright, I'm done. Open your eyes." Valkyrie stepped back, smiling slightly. "You look great. You should let me do this more often." Hermione raised her hand in front of her and circled her finger slightly. A swirling silver mirror appeared in the air in front of her, edges tinged with dark, shimmering blue.

"I like it." She leaned forward, lighting brushing her hands over the swirling lines that framed the right side of her face. Starting at her right temple, the delicate lines extended up onto her forehead, reaching her hairline, before swooping down, landing just above her eyebrow. They also climbed down her cheek, running down her cheekbone and finishing at her jawline. The lines reminded her strongly of ivy, just without the leaves. There was something about the intricate design that suited her face.

"Good."

"No, I really, really like it."

"Again, good. It's good."

Hermione noticed a slight pink dusting Valkyrie's cheeks. "Are you _blushing?_ You never do that!"

"Let's just go, alright?"

Grabbing Hermione's arm, Valkyrie dragged her out of the room. Hermione gave an undignified squeak, before forcing her hand into Valkyrie's. Said person gave Hermione a surprised glance, before continuing out of the apartment and into the brightly coloured hallway.

* * *

"What am I going to say to him?" worried Hermione, chewing on her nails. She was walking at a very brisk pace, following Valkyrie through the winding, twisting, ever changing hallways. "What if I mess up? Is he a strict guy? Oh, Valkyrie, what am I going to do?"

"What you're going to do is calm down. The Grandmaster is a pretty chill guy, and because you're with me, he won't do anything with you. He's not going to risk losing his best Scrapper. Besides, you're amazing. Nobody can resist your charm."

"I beg to differ," muttered Hermione. Due to her superhuman Asgardian hearing, Valkyrie heard her. A snarky, "Are you sure about that?" was sent her way, leading to Hermione swatting Valkyrie on the shoulder. That was another thing she liked about Valkyrie. She didn't mind a bit of teasing. You could mock her, and she would mock you right back, until it became a battle of mocks. She wasn't sensitive, which was nice for a change. If there was one thing that bothered her about the Wizarding World, it was that everyone was so sensitive all of the time. She couldn't tell many jokes, as they were classed as offensive.

Thinking about her home back on Earth made her heart grow that little bit heavier. The three months she'd spent on Sakaar so far had only been brightened by Valkyrie. She was still obsessively working out a way to make a portal back home. But with the change in her magic and physicality, plus the lack of resources, it was proving immensely difficult.

"And, we're here." Instantly, Hermione was knocked out of her thoughts. She straightened her back, standing totally rigid, with her shoulders back. Valkyrie kept her usual swagger. "Come on, relax a bit. He's a pretty calm guy."

"I will make my own judgements, thank you." Hermione squeaked the words out, biting her lip with barely concealed anxiety. The last time she'd been this nervous was when she was giving Elise her slip of resignation for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. No, scratch that. She was five times more nervous. No, ten. What if she messed up and he thought she should fight the defending Champion in the Contest of Champions? She would die, there was no question about it. And if she died, she would never get to find a way back to Earth (she had all the time she needed for that, thanks to her accidental consumption of one of Idunn's apples) or spend more time with Valkyrie.

But most importantly, what she needed right now was to calm down, as she was currently standing in front of a very confused Grandmaster. He was waving his olive toned hand in front of her face, eyes wide.

"Does she have some sort of defect?" he asked curiously. "I think she sees me, but I can't be sure."

Valkyrie squeezed Hermione's shoulder, smiling fondly. "She just gets very nervous. I'll be the first to admit that it's funny, but right now she needs to snap out of it.

"Ah!" gasped Hermione, flapping her hands around aimlessly. "I am snapped out of it!" She began dancing a little jive, clicking her fingers and humming a jaunty tune under her breath. A stupid grin was pasted onto her face, eyes wide open. "See, look how snapped out of it I am." She continued dancing, not really sure what to do now that the everyone in the room was watching her silly performance with very confused eyes. Inside her head, she was freaking out. The Grandmaster's first impression was going to be of her awkwardly clicking her fingers and humming! It not not the ideal way to introduce herself, and now she unsure how to stop without invoking an inevitable cacophony of laughter.

The Grandmaster leaned over to Valkyrie and whispered behind his hand, "Are you sure that she doesn't have a defect? As fun as this is, I'm not really sure what to do in this situation." He glanced uncertainly back at Hermione, who was now attempting to tap dance, syncing her clicks with her unruly feet.

Valkyrie chuckled. "Just watch. She'll 'snap' herself out of it in a minute. She's going to be mortified."

"Yes, but there is a fight soon and I would really like to get to it. Usually, I would get her to keep dancing, as it's incredibly fun."

"Just wait," Valkyrie sighed, leaning forward on a table. Seconds later, Hermione's erratic jig slowed down, until she was aimlessly clicking. Loudly clearing her throat, she stopped, cheeks burning bright as a sunripe tomato. "And, there it is." She fist bumped the Grandmaster

"I am so sorry for that." Hermione profusely apologised to the Grandmaster. "I have a slight...defect, you could call it. I get very nervous about meeting powerful people."

"Oh, I like you already, Hermione Granger," said the Grandmaster, absolutely thrilled at the flattery. He offered his hand to her, and she shook it eagerly, being sure not to shake for too long. Overdoing handshakes was enough to put people off you, she knew that much. "Now, what were you hoping to ask me today? I'm in a generous mood, so fire away."

"Well, I was thinking that―" Valkyrie started to talk, but was cut off by the Grandmaster's hand flying up and shushing her.

"I would like Hermione to talk for herself. She's a grown woman." Hermione felt herself begin to freeze up again, nerves rattling underneath her electrified skin. "Go on, you can do it," encouraged the Grandmaster, in a rather patronising tone.

"I am not a child," snapped Hermione, pointing her finger at him. "And you will not treat me like one. Understood?" Mortified at her sudden outburst, Hermione clapper her hands over her mouth. She just had to go and do that, didn't she? Now she would certainly be fighting in the contest, which was the last thing that she wanted. Maybe she could just teleport out of here and hide away in her bedroom forever. That could work.

"And there we go, we've found your fire." Hermione glanced up, slowly taking her hands down from her mouth.

"You aren't mad at me?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad? Quite the contrary! I'm delighted. Nobody has spoken to me like that in years, and, if I can be honest, it's quite refreshing." Dumbly nodding her head, Hermione collected her scattered thoughts up off the floor, composing herself.

The man in front of her was...strange, to say in the least. His personality was quite erratic. Maybe that was just Hermione's brain tying itself in a knot and seeing everything sideways. He wore robes that were bright yellow, with garish streaks of golden woven in. A metallic stripe of blue was painted onto his chin, though that wasn't so strange when there were black vines climbing over her face. And only now was she realising that the desk he was standing behind was actually a turntable, of all things. It wasn't going currently, but if it was, she could see him making electronic music with very weird, experimental sounds.

Listing the facts helped distract her from the fact that the man in front of her was millions of years old, and that next to him, she was a mere speck of dust.

"Alright. I'll tell you what I want to do." She swallowed her fear, glancing at Valkyrie, who was currently looking very worried. Not that anyone other than Hermione would have been able to see it. She maintained piercing eye contact with the Grandmaster and began speaking. "I would like to accompany Valkyrie when she works."

"As a Scrapper?"

"No, as a companion."

"Scrappers don't have companions."

"Well, starting today, they do."

"Scrappers have partners."

"Well, make me a scrapper then, and make me Valkyrie's partner."

"Now we're talking!"

"We've been talking for the last two minutes." Hermione leaned on her left hip and crossed her arms. It had been a while since she'd negotiated like this, and she was enjoying it.

"Okay, so you want to be a Scrapper. That's normal. But to be Scrapper 142's partner, that's another story. She's my best employee. What can you offer me?" He raised a pointed eyebrow at her, like he was challenging her to come up with something to convince him. In reality, that's what he was doing.

"I have magic."

The Grandmaster's eyes bugged. He leapt over the table separating them in eagerness. "Why didn't you say so? Ooh, show me something!"

"What would you like to see? I can do several things."

"Hmmm," he hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Suddenly, he perked up. "Topaz, bring me Karsann, over here, now! Chop chop!" A strongly built woman with her hair in a severe bun wheeled a chair over. Sitting in it was a stick thin man, his wrists magnetically cuffed to the arms of the chair. His hair was lank, and a rough beard hung down from his chin.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Oh, right, I need to explain it." He playfully slapped himself in the forehead. "Karsann here has a secret that I want to know. He won't tell it to me, no matter what I do. I want you to find that secret."

"How?" asked Hermione, suddenly very nervous.

"You figure that out. If you get it out of him, I'll cut a deal with you about being a Scrapper. If not, well…" He trailed off, leaving Hermione anxiously wondering what would happen is she didn't do it. She glanced over to Valkyrie, who gestured frantically at Hermione to do something about it.

Gulping, Hermione stood in front of Karsann, very aware of the Grandmaster's eyes on her. She didn't know what she was going to do. The last thing that she wanted to do was hurt him, so that was off the tables. There was another possibility, though.

When she was around five, Hermione didn't feel like cleaning her teeth. She told her parents that she had, but through their dentist sense, they knew that she hadn't done it. To get her to talk, they tickled her until it was unbearable. Through hilariously childish giggles, Hermione had confessed to them that she hadn't cleaned her teeth. Maybe, if she was lucky, tickling the guy until he confessed would be enough for the Grandmaster and she could work with Valkyrie as a Scrapper.

After all, you should never underestimate the power of tickling.

"I'm not going to tell you anything," spat Karsann. "You people have already tried everything on me. It won't work."

"We'll see about that," muttered Hermione. She really didn't want to see what would happen if she failed. Carefully, as she'd never tried to tickle someone with her new, different magic, Hermione raised her hand, directing it at Karsann's chest. Eerie blue light began to buzz around her fingertips, before shooting out towards him. It collided with his chest, before sinking into his skin. It only took a second before his face twisted into a grimace, clearly from the discomfort he was currently feeling.

"That isn't going to work," he said through gritted teeth. "You're going to have to do more than that."

"Oh you want more, do you?" Hermione increased the power of there spell, concentrating on the most sensitive areas of his body. He bit his lip, eyes beginning to water at the intensity of the tickling. Suddenly, she felt something switch in the spell, though it wasn't bad. It was more of a modification.

Karsann arched his back, hissing in what seemed to be pain. It wasn't, though. If she was harming him, Hermione would know, and stop immediately. If there was something she hated, it was hurting people unless it was necessary.

"It's inside me," howled Karsann, fists clenching and unclenching. "How are you doing this?"

"Easily," said Hermione. "Now, you're going to admit that secret, or so help me, I will increase the power of this spell. That is something neither of us want."

"I'll never tell you."

Calmly, Hermione ramped up the intensity of the spell again, watching through glazed eyes as the man thrashed around. She couldn't imagine what it would be like being tickled from the inside.

"FINE!" Karsann shouted, panting rapidly. "I'll tell you if you stop!"

"Tell me and then I'll stop." Hermione's arm stayed outstretched hand glowing at intense blue.

"IT WAS BAYLE!"

Hermione stopped the spell, letting her arm drop back down to her side. That went a lot better than she expected. And because she knew that she wasn't hurting him, just causing him major discomfort, she didn't feel super bad about it. Sure, it was a little morally reprehensible, but since landing on Sakaar her morals were little bit skewed anyway.

"That. Was. Amazing!" crowed the Grandmaster, clapping enthusiastically. "I never would have thought of tickling him into submission. You have yourself a deal."

"And what are the terms of this deal?" asked Hermione, knowing better than to just walk off without knowing all the terms.

"They're simple. You become a Scrapper for a year and see how you go. If I think you've done well, you can continue to stay in my employ. If not, you fight my Champion." The Grandmaster looked at her expectantly. They were pretty fair terms. She had a year. There was a lot she could do in a year.

"You're on," said Hermione, sticking out her hand. They shook on it, and Hermione turned to leave with a beaming Valkyrie.

"Wait," called the Grandmaster. "I haven't given you a number."

"A number?"

"Yes, all my Scrappers have a number." He paused for a second." 697. You shall be Scrapper 697. Bye now." Hermione didn't move, completely shocked. "Go on! Shoo!"

Woken up, Hermione scurried out of the room with Valkyrie in tow. A massive wave of triumph was washing through her body, a high that she could never come down from. Unable to wait to get back to their apartment, Hermione grasped Valkyrie's wrist and teleported them both to their apartment.

In the lounge, Hermione turned to Valkyrie, who was looking slightly disoriented. "So, how do you reckon that went?"

Her answer was a deep, intense kiss.

* * *

A lone figure with long black hair and strange leather clothes gazed over the opulent atrium, smiling to himself. He was finally back.

He would finally be seeing Hermione.

And his heart quickened at the thought.

* * *

 _Hai. I enjoyed this one. I was having a bit of trouble with where to end, but I did find it, eventually. I hope you liked it. There is just one more chapter on Sakaar that focuses on Hermione and Valkyrie, before we move onto the big reunion. There's just so much that I want to do with their relationship that I can't fit into this story without making it disjointed. I'm thinking of writing a spin-off. Do you like that idea?_

 _Also, I'm changing my update schedule. Updates for this are now Monday and Friday (in the Southern Hemisphere), as I want to start this thing called 'One-Shot Wednesday.' A corny name, I know, but I wanted to do it._

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria_


	11. Interlude Two: The Blubbering Minister

To say that people didn't notice the tall, leather-clad man shimmying through the crowds of workers at the Ministry of Magic would be an understatement. Everywhere Loki went, inquisitive heads turned to get a better look at him. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on him, in an intense stare. A few years ago, it would have bothered him, would have made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Now, though, he was above that childish discomfort. He was the king of Asgard, for crying out loud. Having hundreds of people stare at him was a requirement of the job.

It was strange to be back on Midgard, to say in the least. Four years ago, he spent three months with Hermione Granger, and those months were still the best of his life. He had meant to see her sooner, but unfortunately, life got in the way. The second he had an opportunity to return, he took it, no matter how puzzled Heimdall was at 'Odin' wanting to travel to Midgard.

And here he was, standing in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, a place Hermione talked about so often. Not all of her talk was in a positive light, though. Most of it was about how frustrated she was with the bigotry that crept through with every word and every action people did. Even now, he could see it, the disdain for anyone even the slightest bit different. For while stares followed him, there were also disgusted sneers, and whispers about what business he had here. Like he was an enigma waiting to be solved.

All in all, the lavish, rich atrium was only a shield for snide disdain and prejudice, not that Loki was any stranger to that.

A small crowd was gathering on one of the walls. They seemed to be surrounding a plaque and placing down flowers of some sort that Loki couldn't identify. His best guess was that it was a memorial for someone who was no longer alive. There were multitudes of those on Asgard. All throughout their lives, Thor and Loki were forced to honour the graves of those who had fallen and travelled to Valhalla. To say that he was sick of memorials was an understatement.

Still, something about it intrigued him. Maybe just a glance, and then he would continue his quest for Hermione. The only reason he was here was because her apartment was empty, most of the furniture, including his favourite chair, gone. It was also covered in a large amount of dust, which seemed strange, but he put it out of his mind. There was always that large possibility that she'd moved to another apartment or flat. In fact, it was a very plausible possibility.

He made his way over to the memorial, the crowd splitting to let him through. A smirk decorated his face, his usual expression now, as these pitiful people moved. They knew that he was of higher authority just from the way he held himself. Finally, people were getting the message that he was, quite simply, better than th―

All of his vain thoughts were cut off in an instant when he saw the face engraved into the plaque and the name resting beneath it. No. No, this couldn't be happening. She had to be here. She couldn't be dead. She was _Hermione._ Hermione couldn't just be gone.

Mind whirling, he grabbed the collar of one of the people surrounding the memorial. He dragged her up off the ground, pulling her right up close to his face. Her feet flailed above the ground and she cried out in protest, a terrified, pitiful sound.

 _Pathetic._

"What happened to her?" he demanded. "What happened to Hermione?" He sneered at her and held her even closer to his face. He could see the fear in the way her eyes crinkled, the way her breath was coming faster than normal and the way she made small keening noises. "TELL ME NOW!" He violently shook her.

"Hey!" came a strong, male voice. "Put her down." Loki turned around to see a large man striding towards him, wand clutched in his hand. He opened his hands and let the woman drop to the floor; she landed in an undignified pile of sniveling robes, before scampering off.

"And who are you?" asked Loki, voice low and dangerous. "Are you here to tell me where Hermione is?" He took a step towards the man, who was more wide than he was tall. "If you lie, I swear I will gut you right here." To show that he wasn't joking, Loki let his dagger fall out of his sleeve and into his hand, twirling it around with a grace that came only with years of practice.

"My name is Atlas Valerius. I'm in charge here. I can't have you barging in here and assaulting my employees."

"That isn't what I asked about," hissed Loki. He took a step closer to Valerius, who didn't back down.

"No, I know that. You asked about Hermione Granger, and I will tell you about what happened to her. Why don't you come to my office and we can discuss it over a nice cup of tea. How about that?" Loki fixed a venomous glare on Valerius, but put his dagger away. Valerius relaxed slightly, gesturing for Loki to follow him. He did so very reluctantly, as the man practically oozed secrecy.

"This better not be a waste of my time. If you are lying, I will not hesitate to kill you."

"And I don't doubt it." Valerius led Loki into an empty elevator, pulling the rattling doors across. The sound reminded Loki of when Hermione was in St Mungo's, waiting for Hermione to wake up after she overused her magic.

They rode the elevator in silence, exchanging nothing but the air they breathed. Once the door dinged and a cool female voice said, "Welcome to the Admin Floor. I hope you enjoyed your ride."

"Thank you, we did," said Valerius jovially, shredding through Loki's already paper thin patience. He ground his teeth in annoyance. This man better tell him what happened to Hermione, or so help him, he would turn be skewered beyond recognition. Quite like that Coulson man. In fact, it would be worse.

They approached a lavish red door with a large golden plaque bearing Valerius' name in large, bold letters. Valerius opened it with what he obviously though was a magnificent flourish. Reluctantly, Loki stepped inside the ridiculously decorated office, clearly designed to show off his power and importance. Several certificates hung proudly on the wall, and a medal was levitating just above his desk, slowly rotating, making sure it was seen at all angles. A large window was behind the desk, letting in fake light. And the desk itself was a garish affair, all red wood and intricate golden trim. It matched the vain man now sitting in the imposing leather chair perfectly.

To make a long story short, the entire office was an eyesore, a sordid affair that Loki would hasten to leave the second this vital conversation was over.

"Please, sit down," said Valerius, flicking his wand at the door, which gently clicked closed. The second it did, his entire demeanor dramatically changed, from cheery to deadly, the visage of what would usually be a predator. Unluckily for him, Loki was in the room, and he was the alpha in this situation.

"Now tell me," hissed Loki, standing from his seat. "Where. Is. Hermione."

"Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into, asking those questions?"

"I am very sure, little man." He leaned forward, fingers splayed over the desk. "Now think very carefully about your answer. One wrong word and you will be pardoned from life."

"Now, I think we both know that you don't mean that," chuckled Valerius, clearly thinking that he had the upper hand here. "These are all empty threats, threats that will get you into deep trouble. You're young, you have a life to lead. Why don't you leave those questions up in the air and leave before you find yourself in something you don't understand, _little man._ "

In an instant, Loki was standing behind Valerius, daggers pressed against his throat. "Tell me," he growled. "What happened to Hermione. If you don't, you'll be dead before you hit the floor. So why don't you make the wise decision and give me the answer to my question, hmmm?"

"Alright," said Valerius, fear seeping into his voice. "Three years ago, she went missing and has yet to return. No one has heard anything, so two weeks ago she was officially declared dead. I was pushing to have it done earlier, but there were so many protests."

"And do you have any idea about how she went missing?"

"Nothing."

"Liar." The daggers pressed harder into Valerius' throat, little rivulets beginning to creep down his neck. "Tell me the truth."

"That is classified information," Valerius fretted. "You aren't privy to it." His only answer was two daggers digging even further into his neck. Frantically, he gulped before giving in. "Alright, I'll tell you." Loki didn't move the daggers, only lightened the pressure slightly. There was nothing that got cowards talking like the smell of their death lurking on the ever darkening horizon.

"And don't leave a single detail out."

"She was working in the Department of Mysteries, on a portal. I think she was trying to find a way to a place called Asgard, something like that. I wasn't there, but I think she was getting close to a breakthrough. The portal was going to the wrong planet. It probably malfunctioned and sucked her through to whatever planet it was currently sitting on. The portal broke and no one has been able to fix it since." He sucked in a great breath. "Is that what you wanted?"

Loki's arms slackened at the news, a strange buzzing inside his mind. Hermione couldn't be gone. This pathetic little man had to be lying, there was no other conclusion. Add in the fact that he was sweating, most likely from hiding something, and Loki wasn't convinced. Not in the slightest.

"Why don't you tell me the truth. You have one chance, you sniveling mortal, before I tear you and your 'oh so precious' reputation to literal shreds."

"That is the truth." Valerius sighed. "Look, if you want to hear another story, go ask some other people. I'm sure that you will get the tall tales you seem so desperate to hear. You should have around ten minutes, before the Aurors catch up to you and arrest you for threatening my life." Valerius smirked leaning back in his chair and plonking his feet down on the table. He thought he'd won. "I told you that you were in over your head, little boy."

Loki didn't respond, merely turning to exit the office. There was nothing more he could get out of this literal human snail unless he resorted to more extreme, violent measures. The mere thought of Hermione even knowing that he did that stopped him in his tracks, though. He didn't want that. So, he would leave the man with a small parting gift, one that would haunt him forever.

Everywhere he looked, out of the corner of his eyes, he would see a person standing in the corner that only he could see, whispering taunting words that only he could hear. That person would be Hermione, acting as she always did. Surely, it would be enough to drive the idiotic man to insanity and tear his life apart piece by piece.

Subtly, Loki cast the spell, making sure that the usual green light of his magic was concealed. He shot it towards the man, who breathed deeply, clicking his fingers. Smirking, Loki opened the door, intent on making his way down to the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps he would be able to find more information on Hermione's disappearance down there. He wasn't just going to let his best friend, his only friend, his first true friend, disappear like that. He was one of the best magic users in the nine realms. If this Valerius man thought that he could stop him just like that, he was sorely mistaken.

 _Very_ sorely mistaken.

Just as Loki was leaving the office, he heard the fated words, muttered under Valerius' breath. "If you ask me, it's good riddance with her." Usually, no one would be able to hear them, standing as far away as Loki was. Loki, though, was an Asgardian, and his hearing was far more able than that of mortals, a fact he was ever proud of.

Spinning on his heels, Loki summoned a dagger and threw it towards Valerius with immense speed. The shining silver blade whistled through the air, embedding itself in the shoulder of the Minister of Magic, who cried out in anguish.

"What in Merlin's name was that for?" he groaned, gripping the handle of the dagger and pulling it out. Once it was yanked out, blood began spurting all over the office. With a flick of his fingers, Loki summoned it back to him, murder blazing in his eyes. Valerius was lucky that he was only stabbed in the shoulder. Had he been aiming better, the knife would likely have been deep inside his gut.

"Hermione is never good riddance. Understand?"

"Who are you?" asked Valerius, pain colouring his already croaky voice. His hand was clutching his shoulder, doing an abysmal job at stemming the blood flow.

"Loki Odinson. Prince of Asgard."

And with that, he swung out of the office, leaving the blubbering man in his now bloody chair to his own pathetic business.

He had a new priority, and that priority was Hermione. He would search every corner of the Nine Realms until he found her, and if anyone hurt her...may Odin have mercy upon their already damned soul.

* * *

Harry Potter heard a sharp, smart rapping on the door of his house. He frowned, slightly pertubed. It was quite late at night and he had no friends coming to visit him. Who could it be? Putting down his blueprints for the latest broomstick, he cautiously walked over to the door and pried the eyehole open. To his surprise, he saw a vaguely familiar face. His name was...Loki, right? And he'd fought with them in the battle the practically ended the Gardeners.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, still not letting Loki in. If it even was Loki. It still wasn't uncommon, even fifteen years after the war ended, for Voldemort sympathisers to turn up at his door disguised as someone close to him. "And why have you come so late?"

"I need to talk to you about Hermione," Loki said, desperation bleeding into his voice. To Harry, it sounded like Loki didn't want that desperation to be there, but was unable to help it. "Please, let me in. No one else has been any help."

"You want to find her?"

"Desperately."

That was all it took. Harry unlocked the door and let Loki in, with his strange clothes and superior demeanor.

"Please, sit down." Harry gestured to his large lounge space, where people were often situated when he had them over. Loki sat down in a green armchair, maintaining regal posture, even though hus fingers thrummed up and down on the arms of the chair. He seemed happy to be in it, though Harry couldn't even begin to fathom why. "Is there something special about that chair?"

"Yes, there is." Loki smiled slightly, like he was being engulfed in a memory. "When I was living with Hermione, I took a liking to a particular chair of hers. I would always sit in it, which annoyed her, as it was her favourite chair. Eventually, she gave in, and brought me my own chair. That was this chair." Loki sunk down into it, totally forgetting his previously straight back. "I would give anything to have those days back."

"Don't I know it," sighed Harry. "I'll go get all the stuff I have on her disappearance and we'll look through it together." Before Harry stood, he paused. "Who have you talked to already?"

"That coward of a Minister you have, Atlas Valerius." Harry grimaced at the mention of the name. "I was not amused."

"What did you do to him?" asked Harry, chuckling slightly, though there was a hint of trepidation hidden behind his eyes.

"He ended up with a blade through his shoulder." Harry laughed even harder, all doubt gone. "My patience, usually everlasting, couldn't keep up with the bumbling fool he is."

"Good. He needed a wakeup call, even if it was a violent one." Harry stood and went to go fetch the papers, leaving Loki alone in the lounge. When he was sure Harry was gone, he curled up in the chair, exactly how he used to when he was living with Hermione. It provided a strange sense of comfort, like the bittersweet memories were holding him in a gentle embrace. He would never tell anyone, not that he'd spoken to anyone as _himself_ for years, due to being disguised as Odin. To comfort himself, though he was loathe to admit it, he often looked at memories of his time with Hermione. Her friendship meant so much to him, it really did.

On the mantle, Loki spied several photos sitting in sleek black frames. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned one of them it him. Inside the photo were three children, dressed in black robes. Infectious smiles played on their faces and a large castle sat royally in the distance behind them. Loki smiled slightly as he recognised a very young Hermione. He would know that bushy hair anywhere.

Harry re-entered the room, levitating a large box in front of him, papers spilling out the side. "Can you clear the coffee table, please? Just shove it all onto the floor." Contrary to Harry's request, Loki made sure that all the blueprints, quills and inkpots (and for some reason a few very streamlined looking twigs) were put away on the dining room table, very neatly.

"May I ask what those twigs are for?"

"Oh, ever since I was banned from ever working at the Ministry of Magic, I've been getting into broomstick crafting." He gestured at the box, now sitting on the coffee table. "I was fired because I wanted to look for Hermione. Valerius is involved in this, I know he is. And we're going to get to the bottom of this, I know we are."

"You are absolutely correct."

So they buckled down and began studying all the information that Harry had. Loki added things here and there. For weeks, they poured over the papers, until Harry came up with the radical idea of breaking into the Department of Mysteries and finding what Hermione was working on.

Loki agreed immediately.

* * *

Three months later, after their unsuccessful infiltration of the Department of Mysteries, Loki and Harry stood outside Valerius' door. They were both filled with a cold fury, and they both knew that it was Valerius that pushed Hermione through the portal, thanks to Loki using a rare form of his magic that he hadn't used in centuries.

Valerius was going to regret the day he messed with Hermione Granger and her friends.

* * *

A week later, a very tired, skittish Atlas Valerius resigned from his post as Minister of Magic, glancing out of the corner of his eyes. In the assembles crowd, Harry, Loki and Ron stood smirking, their work here done. They'd stripped the man of what he held most dear; his reputation. But he would never get away from them, thanks to the spell that Loki cast on him during their first meeting.

Because standing there was an ethereal, eerie version of Hermione, rambling on about Arithmancy variables, that would nevrer go away.

* * *

 _So, I wrote another interlude. I think the plan is going quite well, actually. I thought you might like a bit more of Loki, as he hasn't really been making many appearances, lately. He will be back next chapter, though. I didn't want this to turn out too long, though, as the main chapter should be up within the next two days. And let me tell you, it is a long one. It's currently sitting at around 4500 words, which is quite a lot with my new update schedule._

 _Also, we hit 7,000 views! How cool is that? Celebration!_

 _Anyways, enough of me rambling._

 _Until tomorrow (or most likely the day after),  
Mariadoria_


	12. Hermione's Doesn't Want To Dance

"You sure that you're ready?" asked a concerned Valkyrie. She wasn't so much worried about Hermione. It was the fact that Hermione's iron morals wouldn't really agree with the job, even though she'd been the one to put herself up to it. "We can always go back and get you another job. It isn't that hard."

Hermione tightened the belt around her waist, buckling it up. While she attached the sheath for her sword (that she was still quite uncomfortable using, much preferring twin daggers), she turned to Valkyrie and smiled. "Look, your concern is nice. I know you're worried, and you have every reason to be. I'm new to this planet, don't know how it works outside and barely have any experience in combat." She clipped the sword in and placed a comforting hand on Valkyrie's shoulder. "I will be fine, okay?"

"I don't know about that," Valkyrie muttered playfully, handing Hermione her long, silver daggers. They were almost too long to be called that, but they were still daggers. Hermione gratefully took them, strapping them into her twin arm holsters.

"How about we just go out there and see how it goes?" Hermione grinned at Valkyrie, finally ready. She had her dark blue armour and silver cape, which she'd chosen to match her magic. There was just something satisfying about it. Her sword was connected at the hip, bouncing against her leg, her daggers sat comfortably on her arms in holsters that would have previously held her daggers. The design that Valkyrie painted on her face a few days ago was redone, with Hermione taking a liking to it. And her previously long hair was now cut into a short pixie cut, which she found to be far more practical than her frizzy mess, as it would no longer fall into her eyes (she was also useless with braids and such, not that she would ever tell anyone). "There's no better teacher than experience. Plus, I've been dying to get outside for such a long time. You know I've been cooped up in here for four months. I could have left at any time, but I didn't. So, onward, to claim my reward!" Hermione waved her arms majestically, causing Valkyrie to fall into peals of laughter.

"Alright, let's go. Before we do, though, you got everything, right?"

"Yes."

And before Valkyrie could fret over Hermione anymore, she was whisked out of the room by Hermione. Together, they walked in silence down the hallway, only exchanging the occasional remark, usually Hermione asking a question and Valkyrie answering it in a sardonic tone. Hermione also created small pictures out of her magic, that and small figures that she set to dance around them, reveling in her greater control over her magic. The next step for her was to begin to craft illusions, something that she'd seen Loki do a great number of times. To say she was looking forward to it was a gross understatement.

They came to a large pair of doors, with large panes of frosted glass stopping them from seeing the outside. Usually, Hermione would comment on the asinine, inconvenient design, but with the snakes twisting around in her stomach, she was barely able to get a word out.

"Yeah, those nerves are normal. I had them on my first Scrap as well, and I was over two-thousand years old. You'll get over them quick enough." Valkyrie pushed open the double doors with a flourish, before walking down an old ramp. Squinting from the large amounts of glare coming from the sun, Hermione slowly made her way down the ramp, immensely grateful for the anti slip material that was haphazardly nailed onto the wooden boards. It was strange, seeing wood on Sakaar. Everything was metal, and bright, with jagged white lines cutting through. Not that it was unwelcome.

"Over here, Hermione!" called Valkyrie. Blinking furiously to clear her vision, the green, splotchy figure of Valkyrie came into view. She was standing next to something large, something with a lot of. When her vision finally cleared, what she saw was...disheartening, to say in the least. Over the last few months, one of the constant topics of conversation Valkyrie brought up was her ship, Warbird. She made it out to be this grand, important affair, something that Hermione was secretly looking forward to seeing.

Instead, Valkyrie stood by a dumpy old ship which was more rust than anything else. Hermione blinked again to make sure what she was seeing was real.

It was.

A sudden feeling of unease began to settle in Hermione's stomach. She was going to have to fly in that? There was no way she was even going to get within a ten foot radius of it, not willingly.

"Is that the Warbird?" asked Hermione, even though she already knew the answer she was going to receive. "I'm not flying in it!"

"You'll be fine!" Valkyrie climbed up the ladder to the cockpit, tugging on the door. It wouldn't open. Suddenly, the entire door flew off with an awful creaking noise, landing in a pile of old, rusty parts for ships. "See, everything is fine!"

"You've got to be kidding," deadpanned Hermione. The door flying off the ship only confirmed her suspicions. The fact that Valkyrie would ever drive something like that was surprising, as well. She seemed to have quite high standards for everything but her own health.

"Of course I am," scoffed Valkyrie. "You actually thought that I would drive this thing? You need to get to know me better, 'Mione."

"Don't call me 'Mione. You know I don't like it." Hermione scowled at a smirking Valkyrie. "Anyway, which one is your ship?"

"That one." Valkyrie pointed to a large red and black ship with imposing looking wings and, somehow, a glare. It's nose was sharp, the entire ship looking very aerodynamic and mean. There was a certain grace to it, though. Hermione nodded. That one made more sense. It git Valkyrie's personality more than that awful, awful rustbucket on the opposite side of the shipyard. "Well, are you just going to stand there? Get in here."

LINE BREAK

"Down there," exclaimed Hermione, pointing through the glass floor at a very puzzled man lying on the trash covered ground. "He looks like he's new." Falsely satisfied with herself, she relaxed back in her seat, closing her eyes. She was locked in a battle of morals with herself. Why did she think taking this job was a good idea? What she was doing was the equivalent of enslaving someone. It grated on her nerves so much that she was constantly chewing the inside of her lip, creating a large, bloody ulcer which wouldn't recede for weeks. Valkyrie had known this would happen. She'd stated several times that the job may not be fer Hermione, yet she shrugged it all off. And here was was, stuck doing this job, lest she be chucked into the Contest of Champions. It was quite the conundrum, one that had Hermione wishing that she was living a simple life.

"We'll check it out." Valkyrie began piloting the Warbird downwards, giving Hermione anxious side glances. She sighed. "Look. I'll lay out the facts for you. With these people that we pick up, we're the better option. My method of Scrapping is far less violent than the other Scrappers roaming this planet. I just take them into the Contest of Champions if I think that they're worthy. If not, I just put them in the village and they move on and create a new life. The other Scrappers don't give the newcomers an option. More often than not they're torn apart for bones and rare properties that they're bodies hold and then that's what they sell to the Grandmaster." Hermione's eyes widened in horror. That was totally and utterly barbaric. "I'd rather do things my way, wouldn't you?"

"I suppose so," sighed Hermione. To be honest, Valkyrie's way of Scrapping was quite humane compared to the other...barbarians who roamed this planet working as Scrappers. She put her head in her hands, deciding that she would see how the day went. If she couldn't handle the job, then she'd just have to resign herself to her fate of competing and dying in the Contest of Champions. There were no other options, seeing as she was stuck in a deal with the Grandmaster.

"You'll be alright. I know you will be." Valkyrie landed the ship with a clunk, jumping up out of the seat. Hermione twitched her finger, making her seatbelt melt away. She still wasn't comfortable traveling without one, due to years of riding in cars and hearing about tragic stories about people who died because they weren't wearing theirs.

"We'll see about that."

Together, they exited the Warbird, Valkyrie the picture of confidence, Hermione meekly hanging behind. The storm inside her was only increasing in intensity, intrepid on knocking her off course. The man they were heading towards suddenly cried out in what seemed to be pain. On pure instinct, Hermione instantly summoned her daggers into her hands, using her magic to boost her over the hill of scraps with a large burst of blue.

She was into the fray.

A group of Scrappers, dressed in ratty clothes made of rusted metal and holey fabric, surrounded the man, toting large blades. One of them was hacking away at his leg with reckless abandon, a gleeful, insane grin cutting through the dirt on his face. The man was screaming in agony, desperately trying to break free of the Scrappers. Their hold was too strong for him, their numbers too many, so he was left scrambling to nowhere, constantly being pulled back into the circle.

A wave of anger washed through her, overpowering and intoxicating. Hermione cursed under her breath. As she was still trying to gain full control over her magic, which would take her an estimated decade, her emotions often made her magic act on its own. She'd blown out the walls to their apartment too many times to count because of a slight disagreement with Valkyrie. And the anger in her now was of the prowling, potent variety, prone to lashing out with deadly, unhindered precision.

And that was what happened.

A pulse flew out of her hands, traveling across the ground. All the Scrappers were knocked off their feet, groaning on the ground, glaring at the now terrifying figure of Hermione, with her glowing hands and silver eyes, stalking towards them. She sent another blast of magic towards them, effectively immobilising them. They stood there, totally frozen and ringed with blue light, eyes wide in shock.

"Now, you can either stay and face me, or leave immediately," Hermione gasped out, desperately trying to keep her magic under some semblance of control. Due to the sudden enhance in ability, the power level kept fluctuating, being different almost every day. Today, it was unfairly powerful, something which worried Hermione. If she wasn't fighting to keep it under control, her anger would have fueled it to do far worse than just freeze them. "I suggest," she panted, "you choose the latter. I'm going to drop the spell, and you're going to run." With great effort, she unfroze the Scrappers.

For a second, they looked greedily at the man on the ground, eyes hungry. Then they took one look at Hermione and sped off over the hill, hissing obscenities at her. It took awhile for the clanking of their clothes to fade out of earshot, but when it did, Hermione knew that she could finally let her angry magic out.

She whirled around to face a pile of industrial wrecks, letting the rogue magic out. It rushed towards the pile, before exploding outwards with immense force, knocking Hermione to her feet. A great dust cloud flew through the air, before dissipating, leaving Hermione staring at the terrified man.

Groaning, she hauled herself to her feet, trembling with exhaustion. It always happened when she let her anger out. It wasn't the most ideal situation to find herself in right now, but it was better than exploding the other Scrappers. As despicable as they were, she wasn't prepared to stoop to their level and kill someone. That was something she would never do, not unless her life was on the line and the person threatening it was absolutely evil. She staggered towards the man, before falling to her knees next to him. He recoiled, crying out in pain. Hermione cringed as she took in the stump where his leg was previously attached, blood spurting out of it. That would be hard to heal. Luckily, on Sakaar there were advanced medical supplies if you knew where to look.

One thing was clear, though. This man was not fit to take part in the Contest of Champions. Not with one of his legs hacked off by a group of people with questionable sanity.

"Who are you?" he spat, desperately trying to get away from her.

"We're here to help you, dumbass," said Valkyrie, slowly walking over. She'd apparently though that Hermione was good to handle this one on her own. She did, but that still didn't make Hermione slightly annoyed at her. "Stop sniveling, you're going to be fine."

"My leg just got chopped off and then she blew it up!" He pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. She gave him an affronted look.

"Okay, whatever you name is-"

"Moara," interjected the man. "My name is Moara Kintari."

"Okay, Moara. I just came here and stopped you from being turned into bones and muscles to be sold to the Grandmaster. I think that you should be just the tiniest bit grateful for that, don't you?" He petulantly glared at the ground, an expression so out of place on a thirty something man that Hermione's mouth hung open in shock. "Alright, so that's how it is. You really don't know how to thank people, do you?"

"Not when there is nothing to thank them for."

"Let me guess," said Valkyrie, crouching down in front of Moara. "You grew up in a rich home, with people catering to your every whim and fixing your every problem. You never had need to want for anything, so never had any cause to thank for anything. People whisked in to aid you when you made the slightest mistake, which would explain the fact why you're so relaxed about your leg being chopped off."

"You're right, I am from an upstanding family. I demand that you take me home right now." Hermione snorted at the childish demand. If she didn't know better, she would say that Moara was secretly an eleven year old Draco Malfoy disguised as an adult. "My leg will be fixed again and then you two will be arrested for handling your interactions with me in such a poor way."

"That isn't happening, bucko. You're a long way from home now." Valkyrie grabbed him under his armpits and effortlessly held him up over her shoulder like a squirming sack of potatoes. "This is Sakaar. Here, you don't have a say in what happens to you. For example, we're taking you to a common doctor, who is going to fix your leg and get you set up. You're really not prepared for this world, you poor, poor, snail."

"Curse you, woman!" Moara snarled, pointlessly trying to struggle free of Valkyrie's iron grip, banging his fist on her back in protest. "Curse both of you! You'll rue the day that you laid a finger on me!"

Sick of his inane babbling, Hermione knocked him on the head with the base of her dagger, effectively knocking him out.

"That should keep him quiet."

"You're learning!" whooped Valkyrie. "And notice that your nerves are gone." Hermione stopped short, realising that they were totally gone. She smiled slightly.

Maybe this job wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

"Your time has come, Hermione Granger," declared the Grandmaster, spreading his arms wide. "Are you going to be a Scrapper forever? Or shall you be forced to compete in the Contest of Champions for my own entertainment?" The rest of the rooms occupants were silent, eagerly listening to what the outcome of the conversation was going to be. They all knew of the high stakes bet between Hermione and the Grandmaster. In fact, so many people stopped her to tell her about the wagers that they put on her that she'd lost count. Most of them were against her, as they all wanted her to compete in the Contest. She knew that they gobbled up the entertainment like it was the most delectable food in the world to them. There was one thing that Hermione was sure of, though. If she was put in the Contest, she was going to teleport away and live secretly, in hiding. She refused to take part in something like that, even if she was forced to. There was always a way out.

The past year had been a whirlwind. She'd fallen into an effortless rhythm with Valkyrie. They worked so well as partners that she struggled to remember what it was like working without one. As Scrapper 697, the reputation she gained was something she was quite proud of. When people saw the Warbird approach, most of the other Scrappers scarpered, fearing Hermione after the stories of her occasional magical outbursts spread. Now that she was comfortable with the job she had, her moral compass didn't bother her at every turn. Most of the people they found just went into the town, as they weren't considered good enough for the Contest. The reason that they got away with having so few contenders was because of the ridiculously high prices they were able to charge. Most of the people they brought in were desperate to fight, so that helped.

And here she was, one year later, standing in front of the man who would basically decide her fate. All she wanted was to stay working with Valkyrie. There was also a portal she was beginning to experiment with that she was desperate to keep working on. The worst thing that could possibly happen was her becoming a 'gladiator' in the Contest.

"Your answer is coming up soon, Scrapper 697. But first," the Grandmaster ran behind his turntable and flicked the on switch, "we have a break for my marvelous music. It should put you in a bright mood, so the news that I give you doesn't hit so hard." Strange sounds that could barely be called music began filling the room. Hermione grimaced. If there was one thing she intensely disliked, it was the Grandmaster's music. There was just something about it that rubbed her the wrong way, clomping up her spine and marching inside her brain. "Come on, dance a bit. Surely you like my music."

"Sure," muttered Hermione, forcing herself to bob her head slightly. If it didn't pass as dancing, too bad. This had already dragged on for long enough. The faster it was over, the better. She couldn't wait to have the dread, heavy as lead, out of her stomach. She wouldn't put it past the Grandmaster to have been planning to put her in the Contest anyway, building up false hope in her all year. He seemed like the sort of person to do that, the type of guy who liked playing people's lives like they were mere pawns in a larger game of chess.

"You can do better than that." The Grandmaster swept past the console and began moving in a way that could be described as dancing. It wasn't really. All it consisted of was jerky movements and limbs sticking out in awkward ways. "Look, if you dance well, I'll tell you what my answer is. How about that?"

"No."

"No?" scoffed the Grandmaster, stopping his awkward jutting of limbs. "You mean you just want me to tell you outright what your result is? But there's no fun in that. The fun lies in the wait."

"Well I've been waiting for a year, so you can spit it out right here." The Grandmaster placed a very offended looking hand on his chest. "Don't give me that look."

"Oh, woe is me," he sighed dramatically, scowling at Hermione. "People like you ruin all my fun. Fine, you can stay as a Scrapper. Just don't let me down." Hermione began to smile, fighting to keep her excitement inside her. She could let it all out when she was back in their apartment.

"I once attained one hundred and twenty percent on an exam. I don't think I know the definition of letting people down."

"In that case, get out of here." The Grandmaster shooed her away with a very disappointed look on his face. Hermione gladly scooted out of the room, falling gleefully into the waiting arms of Valkyrie.

"I'm still a Scrapper."

"I never doubted you."

* * *

Time began to pass, and before Hermione knew it, she had been on Sakaar for five years. She'd been in a relationship with Valkyrie for five years. She'd been a Scrapper for five years.

And she would be lying if she said she didn't slightly enjoy her new life. Sure, there were ups and downs, such as Moara coming back to try and gain revenge (which failed miserably) and her magic acting up so badly that she was left without it for six months, but there was something charming about the trash planet.

Currently, she was sitting on the edge of the bed she shared with Valkyrie, nervously fiddling with a simple ring, made of silver and diamond. Today was the day she was going to propose to Valkyrie. She was certain now that this was the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Though they fought, they always made up. They always comforted the other when they were sad. They shared triumphs and, hopefully, the same amount of endless love. There was the small fact that Valkyrie didn't know the Earth (or Midgard, as Hermione had taken to calling it now) traditions for marriage, but hopefully they would be explained after it. Hermione wasn't about to bring them up, lest Valkyrie get suspicious about what Hermione was going to do.

The telltale hiss of the door opening reached Hermione's ears, along with the footsteps of her girlfriend. The butterflies in her stomach ramped up to insane levels. It was now or never.

"Hey, how are you?" Hermione greeted Valkyrie with a small kiss, handing her a bottle of whiskey. It was something they did, now. Every few weeks, Hermione would get Valkyrie some sort of alcohol and in return, Valkyrie would find some gadget or gizmo she thought might help Hermione with her portal.

"I'm fine. Moara tried to get me again, but it didn't work. That man really is a walking disaster." Valkyrie turned around to open the bottle, face away from Hermione. Hastily, she pulled out the box containing the ring and clumsily got down on one knee. She really should have thought this through, or rehearsed it at the least. It was probably going to be an absolute disaster, knowing her luck.

Valkyrie turned around with the bottle of whiskey clutched in her hand. She took one look at Hermione, down on one knee, before dropping the bottle onto the ground. Hermione cringed at the smashing sound. Valkyrie looked into Hermione's eyes, before saying one, singular word.

"Yes."

Apparently she did know about Migardian wedding traditions.

* * *

"I can't believe that the Warbird crashed! And on our fifteenth anniversary, as well." A sulking Valkyrie stared at the wreck of their beloved ship, smoking and sparking, looking very at home with the trash landscape. "What are we going to do now?"

"I'm really not sure. We could go look at that abandoned shipyard. Maybe we could find something there and fix it up as a side project. That could be fun."

"To you. Honestly, you love fixing things so much I should call the cops"

"Don't you dare."

Together, they went to the shipyard and fell in love with a rusty old ship that would later be named 'Warsong' and come to be loved even more than the Warbird.

* * *

"I can't believe it's been thirty seven years since I landed here," mused Hermione. It was a normal day. They were heading towards someone who'd fallen onto the planet, standard procedure. "It's gone so fast."

"Time on Sakaar is funny, you know that. You spent three years studying it, only to accidentally invent a form of time travel and nearly erase yourself."

"That was an accident."

"Accident."

"Watch it," Hermione playfully growled. She was about to continue, when a very familiar sounding groan reached her ears. Her eyes widened and she raced towards it. The person they were going towards, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be.

"Where are you going?" called Valkyrie. "This is a normal day. You shouldn't be running."

Hermione didn't pay attention to that, though. She was tearing away the rubble that was covering the body that the voice was coming from. Desperately, she tore away the last piece of the metal and felt tears prick her eyes. Staring up at her was the barely conscious face of Loki Odinson, the person she'd been searching for for so long.

Finally.

"I found you at last, you idiot."

* * *

There was a lot that was going to be in this chapter that I cut. There was just too much. I've decided to write a spinoff based on Valkyrie and Hermione. There's just so much to explore with their relationship that I don't want to leave alone. It's too exciting.

Anyway, Loki is back. I wanted to keep this bit short, as the next chapter is the big reunion. We're getting back into the story, too. I have some really cool ideas that I think you may like.

Also, I should be posting three more chapters next week, as I am going away on holiday and won't have access to a computer or a phone for three weeks. It's going to drive me mad not being able to write.

Sincerely,

Mariadoria


	13. My Correct Title, Peasent

"I found you at last, you idiot."

Hermione reached down into the hole where Loki was lying and hauled him up, out of the hole with a large amount of effort. Even though her strength was increased, it was still bit of a struggle. It was a worry of hers, too. Over the last ten years, her strength had been steadily decreasing, due to the fact that there were no more apples of Idunn to eat. It would likely be another two-hundred years or so before she reached the end of her lifespan, though, so she wasn't complaining.

She couldn't believe it. One of her best friends was actually here, in real life, not just in the dreams. This was a dream come true, a total miracle. How he'd come to Sakaar, she didn't know. Maybe it was a mishap with the Bifrost, or an accident with teleporting. Sakaar wasn't exactly a place that you found on purpose. It was a planet where lost things came, where the lost people could find a place where they belonged, among the other lost people. Over her years on Sakaar, she'd realised that the barbaric, gladiator style planet was like a strange, closely knit family. To say it was odd was an understatement.

What was even more odd was the state that Loki was in. Now that her extreme happiness had begun to die down, she was seeing that his clothes were ripped, he was smoking slightly, and there was a cut on his cheek. To see him as anything less that totally and utterly immaculate was very out of the ordinary. Usually, he presented himself with a slightly arrogant air...Hermione strained to remember anything about him apart from the key facts she already knew. This was what she was scared of. That she had spent so much time away from Midgard and searching for Loki that she couldn't actually remember much about him. And it was happening. Only the most noteworthy memories of him were inside her head. All the little idiosyncrasies were gone, replaced with a large black void of silent nothingness. It made her feel slightly numb.

"Ugh," Loki groaned, slowly opening his bleary eyes. "Where in Odin's name am I?" He didn't quite seem to realise that Hermione was kneeling next to him, tears streaming down her face, desperately resisting the urge to hug him. If there was one thing she knew, it was that Loki wasn't the most enthusiastic about physical contact, especially hugs.

"Sakaar," said Hermione. "You're on Sakaar." A fat, salty ear dripped off her cheek and landed on Loki's dusty, cut up face. Loki's eyes shot open, though he didn't try to sit up. He looked like he was trying to deduce something. She could practically hear the gears and cogs in his head ticking, ticking, ticking away, frantically working away. When his eyes landed on her, she saw them light up.

Oh, how she'd missed that spark.

"Hermione?" He sat up, gazing at her like she was an apparition, priming to disappear at any given moment. Like if he tried to reach out for her, his hand would slide directly through her. "Is that really you?"

"Yes, you plonker, it's really me. I'm right in front of you, can't you see me?"

"How can it be you?"

"Well, I'm certainly not anyone else. Come on, I know you're not this sentimental." She playfully clapped him on the shoulder, a throwback to when she used to do that in her old flat. She still missed that building, with the giant library/study, the little kitchen and the cozy lounge. Loki staye sitting there, slightly dazed. He was never like this, from what she could remember. Something serious must have happened on his end. "What's wrong?"

"Apparently, I have a sister."

* * *

"So, Sakaar is a place where lost things go, right?"

"Yeah, that right."

Loki and Hermione were sitting at the newly refurbished bar inside her and Valkyrie's apartment, politely sipping on tea that Hermione had discreetly conjured. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell him about how she was now an Asgardian, at least for the next two-hundred years. Knowing her luck, it would most likely slip out at the worst possible moment.

Loki sniffed dramatically. "I am not a lost thing. If anyone dares to call me that, I will impale them."

"Maybe you should reconsider before doing that." Hermione sipped her tea, before pausing in thought. "Then again, Sakaar is a pretty lawless place, so people most likely wouldn't notice. No, don't look like that." Loki began to get a dangerous gleam in his eyes, one Hermione hadn't seen for years. "Just because people won't notice or care, doesn't mean that you can go around stabbing people."

"Six years have passed and you're exactly the same." Hermione deflated slightly. Loki, being as perceptive as he was, noticed this immediately. "Okay, now it's my turn to ask you what's wrong."

Hermione sighed. It was now or never, what with her confidence rapidly exiting her body. "It's been thirty-seven years here, Loki. Time works differently on Sakaar."

"How?"

Valkyrie chose this moment to butt into the conversation, bringing up her own barstool and draping her arm around Hermione. "Don't ask this klutz to explain it. She won't even admit to her time travel accident. It's better to just accept it and move on."

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to do that. Hermione, I will be asking you about it later."

"Of course." Hermione placed her cup of tea down.

Loki's back straightened as he seemed to realise something. "If you have been here for nearly forty years, why do you still look exactly the same? Do people here not age?"

Hermione didn't answer. Instead, Valkyrie happily shared her wife's embarrassing story. "No, she accidentally ate an Apple of Idunn, so now she's Asgardian. Would you believe that she fainted when she found out?"

Surprisingly, in that moment, Loki did faint, plummeting to the ground and landing with a dull, 'thwap.'

Something was definitely off with him at the moment.

* * *

"Don't mention it to anybody, okay?" snapped Loki. As soon as he'd come around from his faint, he leaped to his feet and acted as if he was standing the entire time. He glared at Valkyrie and Hermione, who were currently trying to stifle their giggling.

"Fine. I can do that."

"You will do it, or you will face the consequences."

Hermione smiled. This was just like old times. The bickering, Loki's high and mighty attitude, and the warm feeling of having a proper, real friend. For all the time she'd spent on Sakaar, Valkyrie was still really her only real friend. It was surprising. So, to have another friend back, it made her feel all warm and fuzzy. It was a very pleasant feeling.

"Of course, mighty one."

"Ah, someone finally addressing me correctly." Loki smiled at her, then added, "Peasant," for good measure. Hermione giggled.

"It's been too long, Loki."

"Agreed."

With that, Hermione conjured Loki's favourite chair up next to her favourite one and they sat down, catching each other up on the years that they'd missed. Valkyrie watch as they animatedly talked, grinning and taking occasional gulps from her latest alcoholic conquest. It was good to see her wife so happy. Not that she wasn't happy as she was. It was just the fact that she seemed so happy to have an old friend back.

After half an hour, she went to her own room to practice throwing her knives, wanting to give them some privacy.

Three hours later, when she emerged, they were both still talking as vibrant as ever. It would take a long time for them to finish, she could tell.

Adorable.

* * *

Yes, this is short. I wanted to do a chapter that is just reunion. I needed to. It didn't seem right to tack it on to another chapter. Anyway, this is the last chapter for quite a while, as I am going away on holiday for three weeks in a day and won't be online. I'm planning the rest of the story out and am going to make it quality, I promise.

I am very tired.

Sincerely,

Mariadoria


	14. Ragnarok

"So what's so important about this guy? There are other guys we could have picked up." Hermione was sitting next to Valkyrie in the Warsong, double checking that her well worn armour was still in working condition. It probably wasn't the best time to do it, she thought. Oh well. Things would work out.

"You'll see."

"Oh, cut it out, would you. I'm exhausted and don't have time for it."

"You sure?"

"Very."

"Okay, okay." Valkyrie began to angle the ship downwards, towards the familiar sight of a horde of scrappers surrounding some poor soul. "I think it may be Loki's brother, Thor."

"You're kidding."

"No, I'm not. He's huge, blonde, wearing a cape and has long hair. Plus, he fell out of the sky in a similar place to Loki, so it isn't a huge stretch."

"I guess. Let's check it out." On the outside, Hermione was as calm as a mirror flat lake. On the inside, she was a tumultuous storm, an ocean that sank cruise ships at the snap of a finger. After all of Loki's stories, was she finally going to meet the legendary, apparently oafish (though she was going to make that judgement for herself, thank you very much), Thor Odinson. Perhaps he would be nicer than Loki made him out to be. Perhaps not.

Well, she may be just about to find out.

* * *

It was Thor.

He made that much apparent as they dragged him into the Grandmasters hall. He wouldn't shut up. Guess Loki was right about that bit. For all his galavanting and preening, he didn't seem to do much. He just sat in the chair yelling. Another thing Loki was right about.

It was also kind of...cute. No, that wasn't the word. At the moment he seemed like a big teddy bear. She knew that he was a formidable fighter, but that wasn't now. Hermione found herself stifling the giggles that kept bubbling up to the surface.

Together, Valkyrie and Hermione left the room, looking forward to his first tournament.

He won.

* * *

So, Hermione was now a part of a group called the Revengers, obviously named after something else, though she didn't know what. The members were her, Valkyrie, Thor, some guy called Bruce Banner and, of course, Loki. Their aim was to fight this lady called Hela, who was apparently Thor and Loki's crazy adopted sister, on Asgard. She was finally going to get to visit, even though it was likely going to be a lot more destroyed than it was in the tales that Valkyrie regaled.

And, off they went, through the Devil's Anus.

* * *

Surtur really wasn't a very nice fellow.

At least he killed Hela. Along the way, though, he decimated Asgard, making it no more than debris floating in the vast vacuum of space. It was no more.

Beside, her, Valkyrie stood tall, her eyes shimmering slightly. Even though she ran away, Asgard was where she grew up, where she made friends, where she trained and where so many of her precious memories took place. Hermione didn't know how she would feel if Earth was destroyed.

She reached out and gently held Valkyrie's hand, rubbing comforting circles on the back of it. "I don't know where we're going, or what's going to happen next, but I'll always be here for you, okay?" It was barely more than a whisper.

Valkyrie said nothing in response, just gave a stoic nod. Hermione gave her a watery smile, before gazing out of the behemoth they were traveling in. The vastness of space lay ahead of them, twinkling stars and rugged asteroids belt, a massive void that she was traveling across. This had always been one of her dreams, to travel in a spaceship. And, sure, it wasn't how she imagined it, but this way was even better.

So, when she heard Thor, a man who she had inordinate amount of respect for, say they were going to Earth, her heart lifted even more.

A few hours later, her elation was shattered by the arrival of a huge, menacing looking ship outside their own.

* * *

 _Hello, I have returned, with the second shortest chapter I have ever written (the other is for a story I wrote for 'Back to the Future' called 'The Prank,' which I recommend you read if you like 'Back to the Future). The reason for it being so short, is that I wanted to get something out while I am planning the rest of the story. I know a lot of you were excited about the events of Ragnarok, but the bulk of the rest of the story takes place during Infinity War, so I needed to power through this. It was fun to write, though, so there was that. I was also inundated by the new Tomb Raider game, which I received as a Christmas gift. I recommend checking it out._

 _The normal schedule should resume in a week, though that will only be going on for about a month, as I am planning a massive project around Doctor Who that is going to require a lot of my attention. Due to this, I will only be posting once a week, though the chapters will double in length._

 _Hope this was a good entrance back into the story after my absence. Think of it as a gateway between the two halves of the story. An interlude, if you will._

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria_


	15. A Life of Almost is a Life of Never

" _How did you manage to break the cooker?" laughed Hermione, dancing with her very sheepish wife. "All you were doing was making pancakes."_

" _You know that recipe has never agreed with me. They're pitiful little pieces of food, not worthy of being prepared by my hand."_

" _You never speak that way."_

" _Only when I'm angry." To demonstrate her point, Valkyrie bared her teeth, Hermione breaking into peals of very unattractive laughter. "I'm just not good at cooking. I thought we went over this."_

" _Yes, we did."_

" _Then why do you keep making me try?"_

" _It's very, very amusing watching you try to conquer the stove. How you manage to set water on fire, I will never know."_

" _Why, you cheeky little minx!" Hermione spun Valkyrie, but accidently stepped on her foot, sending them both tumbling to the floor in a heap of laugher (from Hermione) and vulgar curses (courtesy of Valkyrie). "How long will it take you to grow out of this phase?"_

" _Hmmm?" They stayed laying on the floor, gazing out the window at the Sakaarian sky. Sure, there were no stars to speak of, but the red and purple hues grew on you after a while._

" _The phase where you keep embarrassing me for you own amusement."_

" _It'll take a while."_

" _Thought so." Valkyrie reached over and grabbed a bottle of whisky, uncorking it and downing half of it in one gulp. Hermione sighed. Even though she knew that alcohol barely affected Asgardian systems, she still didn't like Valkyrie's drinking habits. But now wasn't the time to address it. Now, they just needed to enjoy being in the moment, gazing at the strangely picturesque trash filled landscape._

 _It seemed like it could last forever._

* * *

The attack came out of nowhere. One minute, they were cruising through space, on their way to Earth. The next minute, the ship was being blown to pieces, the figures from the other ship barging their way in, preaching about how they were being saved, how it was an honour to fall at their hands. Hermione refused to stand down, so she fought. It lasted all of ten seconds before she was hurled aside, roughly landing on her side. She blacked out immediately, not hearing the enraged scream of Valkyrie.

* * *

 _Hermione flopped down onto the couch she'd recently installed, groaning in exasperation. Valkyrie poked her head out of their bedroom door, hair still wet from the shower. "What is it this time?"_

 _Hermione ran her hand through her hair. "Moara Kintari, again. You'd think he'd learn by now. He's a nuisance, that's what he is." Valkyrie sighed in sympathy. The man had been bothering them for years, blaming them for his predicament as a waiter. It was better than a lot of jobs on Sakaar, yet he insisted on constantly trying to assassinate them. It never worked, of course. His attempts were pitiful at best. So pitiful that Valkyrie ended up nicknaming him the 'pathetic trash man,' which only served to enrage him further._

" _You're right there. At least he's a source of laugher."_

 _Suddenly, something slammed into the window with a loud bang. Hermione whipped around, just in time to see a circular object plummet back down to the ground. It was clearly a bomb, and a strong one at that. Who would want to…_

 _She got up and wandered over to the window, peering down at the ground, knowing exactly who she was going to see. An extremely frantic Moara was sprinting away from the bomb. The poor man clearly thought it was going to smash through the window. It blew up with a loud 'boom,' debris flying everywhere. Moara shot up from inside the wreckage of a ship, took one look at Hermione and scarpered._

 _Hermione shook her head in bemusement. Would that man ever learn?_

* * *

She woke to fire.

There was fire everywhere she looked. It was all Hermione could feel crawling over her skin, making it bubble and blister, the pain worse than even the faint memory of the cruciatus curse. Through the fire, she could see the hulking silhouette of the madman who attacked the ship. A golden gauntlet which held a gleaming gem was on his hand, and Hermione could feel the power radiating off it like an extremely potent drug. Next to her, Valkyrie was hauling herself to her feet, covered in soot, eyes watering from the extreme heat, arms burned and blackened.

"Hermione," she croaked. She was now standing. "Please, come with me. We can leave with the rest of the Asgardians." Her hand was heavily blistered from the flame. Every movement clearly hurt her, if the hisses coming from her were any indication. The pain she was in made Hermione tense up, as she hated seeing Valkyrie with even a scratch.

"I can't get up." Even saying the words hurt her throat. It felt like someone had taken sandpaper and rubbed the inside of her neck. The second she'd woken up, she knew that she wasn't going to make it. This talk was going to be her last.

And it was going to tear her apart.

"Yes, you can." Valkyrie knelt down, tears running thick rivulets through the ruined white markings on her face. "You have to. Goddammit, 'Mione, you have to! I can't leave you behind. I need you!" The pain on her face was unbearable. Hermione felt tears stream down her face. She wasn't going to be able to get up, she knew that. She couldn't move her legs, trapped under a massive piece of ship. Valkyrie needed to leave her behind, there wasn't time to get her out before the refugee ships left the ship.

"And those Asgardians out there need you more. I'm just holding you up. Go to them."

"You never hold me up. I won't leave!" Valkyrie grasped Hermione's shoulder tight, her grip like iron. A clamp. Like she was never going to let go. But she was going to have to. Hermione would make her.

"You will. Listen to me." With what little strength she had, Hermione grabbed Valkyrie's shoulder. She gazed into her wife's watery eyes. "They need you more than I do. I am dying, there is nothing you can do about that. Go, help them. I'm not going to let you stay here with me when you could be out there being a hero for those who need it."

Valkyrie suddenly became wracked with sobs. "I can't leave you! I love you too much! Dammit, Hermione, why have you got such a hero complex?"

"I think I got it from Harry." She laughed weakly at the memory of her old friend. "There's no time, though." Hermione traced Valkyrie cheek, feeling the familiar contours and imperfections that she loved so much.

"There's always time."

"Not today." Gathering her magic, Hermione wrapped it around her hands, touching Valkyrie's chest, choking on her sobs. The heat was almost becoming too much now, the pain increasing to complete and utter agony. She willed herself not to scream out. There were more important things than that, like getting her stubborn wife to safety, to help the others. She had to get her away, using the last of her strength and magic to save her wife from.

Because if she could live, then Hermione would at least die happy.

"No, don't you dare! DON'T YOU DARE!"

"Goodbye, love." The magic pulsed out, sending Valkyrie flying backwards in a shower of dark blue sparks. She barely heard the agonised cry of Valkyrie over her own, desperation racing through her trembling limbs. The pain was like nothing she'd ever felt before, empty and awful, a black hole roaring in her middle and and sucking all her remaining joy and love into it. The face of Valkyrie was seared onto the insides of her eyelids.

Black dots began dancing at the edge of her vision, mingling with the fat, salty tears. She was still crying out, both in pain and absolute heartbreak. She was never going to see Valkyrie again. Then again, she was going to die here, in a mere few minutes. At least she would go out knowing that Valkyrie was safe.

And so, with flames licking at her body, Hermione said, "Love you always, you stupid woman," and let out her last breath, eyes turning glassy, gazing out at the stars through the hole in the roof.

At least the stars were winking down at her in her final moments.

* * *

" _You know I will always be with you?" Valkyrie comforted a petrified Hermione, who was hyperventilating, hands covering her mouth._

" _But what if that happens again? He stabbed you, through the middle! It was sticking out your back! You nearly died."_

" _But I didn't, that's the important part."_

" _But you almost…" Hermione began sobbing, then suddenly clutched onto Valkyrie like her life depended on it, hands clasped behind her back, face buried in her shoulder._

" _A life of almost is a life of never." With watery eyes, Hermione glanced up at Valkyrie, before wiping them with her hand._

" _I guess you're right."_

" _Just promise me one thing, alright?" asked Valkyrie._

" _Yeah?"_

" _Don't ever send me away."_

" _Never. Why would you even think that?"_

* * *

Every year, around this time, Harry Potter felt his heart get heavy. It just a few weeks it would be the six year anniversary of Hermione Granger's disappearance. For six years, she had been gone, and the loss never became any less potent. It just sat there, an ugly beast rearing its head whenever it saw fit, shoving memories of the good times into his mind, along with the regret that he spent more time on his work than with her.

Currently, he was listlessly walking through an ornate hallway, making his way to his office, where he would sit down and look at more papers. They were endless, but a welcome distraction from his grief. Even thoughts of his newly started family weren't enough to take his away from his stupor.

Just as he reached the door, a massive wind picked up behind him. Before he could even turn around, blinding rainbow lights filled the hallway. He whipped out his wand, ready to combat any threat that came from within.

But what he saw, he was not ready for.

The lights disappeared and all that was left was the limp, charred body of a barely recognisable Hermione Granger. Immediately, ignoring the swell of emotions threatening to spill out from inside of him, he rushed forward, already drawing his wand to Disapparate to St. Mungo's. There was not time to lose, not when Hermione was back and looked to be on the brink of death.

He would question how she was back later. Harry bent down to pick her up, but couldn't even get her to budge. Somehow, she was incredibly heavy, despite her lean frame. The mystery would have to wait.

Being incredibly careful, Harry grabbed her hand and turned on his heel, appearing in the foyer of St. Mungo's with a deafening crack.

"Please, I need a Doctor, now!" There was a sudden flurry of movement as a flock medi-wizards surged forward, surrounding Hermione, all with very concerned faces. They whisked her away, leaving Harry standing in the foyer.

She was back. He felt slightly numb, but she was back. He was able to register that, and the fact that she was nearly dead. But if there was one thing for sure, it was that he wasn't going to leave her.

Not now.

* * *

 _So, after my absence, I return, with the first real chapter in over a month. Woohoo? I am quite proud of this. The story really is starting up again, now. Another reason for it being late (apart from my planning) is that I kind of may have rediscovered 'Trollhunters' and accidentally watched all three seasons again. Aw, who am I kidding. It was all intentional. Seriously, though, if you want an amazing show, I highly recommend it._

 _Thank you to all who have read, favourited, followed and reviewed. And thank you for you patience. I won't make any promises about when the next chapter will be out, as that never goes to plan. I'll try my best, though, I'm still getting back into the swing of things._

 _Sincerely,  
Mariadoria_


	16. The Typical Rewrite and Typical Apology

Hello

I am unsatisfied with how this story is going. There is no other way to put it. So, rather than slaving over this one (which I will be leaving up), I am going to take the time to plan a concise and logical story that makes sense. This was originally meant to be a short, three chapter venture, but it has grown out of control. I feel no passion for this version.

Have no fear, though. The next one shall be out, and it will be a clear story from the get go, with no major surprises. If you would like to read the next one, please put me on alerts, so you can get notified when it is posted. I apologise for doing the thing I said I was never going to do. But, this is what I do when I lose passion for a story. I go back to the drawing board and produce something even better (I hope). This time around, the entire story is going to be written before I post it, eliminating my current unreliable update schedule.

Sincerely,

Mariadoria


End file.
